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SELECTIONS . . . 


. . . FROM LUCIAN 



TRANSLATED BY 

DEMARCHUS CLARITON BROWN 

Professor of Greek at Butler College 


INDIANAPOLIS AND KANSAS CITY 
THE BOWEN-MERRILL COMPANY, PUBLISHERS 
EIGHTEEN NINETY- SIX 


I 


TA42.3I 

As? 

i 




COPYRIGHT BY 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
1896. 


486555 
AUG 25 1942 


TO MY STUDENTS AT BUTLER COLLEGE 


/ 


Contents. 

Introduction, ..... 7 

Charon, or The Observers, . • 11 

Dialogues of the Dead, . . *35 

Timon, or The Misanthrope, . . 57 

The Cock, . .... 91 

Ikaromenippus, or Above the Clouds, . 123 















INTRODUCTION. 


It was while making a comparative study of the 
misanthropes of Lucian, Shakspere and MoliSre 
that the translator felt the need of a wider reading 
of the dialogues of Lucian, especially those which 
have in them a deep human interest detached from 
purely local or Greek influence. Lucian’s Timon 
throws light on Shakspere’s, and makes MoliSre’s 
Alceste a mere monk preaching against the sins of 
his day. Much of what Lucian wrote has this 
broad contemporaneous character. Living in the 
second century after Christ, he had the entire field 
of Greek literature to graze in. He took advantage 
of it. He gives evidence of extensive reading; but 
he wrote also extensively. No attempt will be made 
here to classify his writings, yet a general idea of 
his essays and dialogues may not be out of place. 

The quibbling philosophers of his day were a 
shining mark for his satire. He omits no opportu- 
nity to make the keenest sport of them. The “ Sale 
of Lives” and the “ Ikaromenippus” are perhaps the 
best examples of his almost savage treatment of the 
sham philosophers. 

Very naturally social customs did not escape se- 
vere censure. To the mind of the translator these 
dialogues are valuable and suggestive, and are, 

( 7 ) 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


therefore, the substance of what has been trans- 
lated. The “ Timon ” is certainly his masterpiece 
— a dramatic dialogue. 

Lucian’s most biting sarcasm was directed against 
the prevailing religion of the time. The gods of 
Olympus were mercilessly yet amusingly handled. 
He has been regarded as an enemy of the Chris- 
tian religion. However, he satirized it far more 
gently than he did the other forms of religion. He 
knew but little about it and really, though uninten- 
tionally, aided it. His reflections against the gods 
are found in everything he wrote — but in particular 
in the “ Dialogues of the Gods.” 

Even the literary men of the Greeks did not es- 
cape him. His broadest caricature is his “ True 
History,” aimed perhaps at Herodotus and Kte- 
sias. The popular adoration of Homer was an un- 
ending source of his fun-making. 

The characteristics of the period furnished ample 
ground for Lucian’s scathing satire. Philosophy 
had degenerated into caviling, into play upon words. 
The disputants took refuge from the main argu- 
ment in mere artifice or evasion, forgetting or rather 
not knowing that — 

‘Quirks and quibbles have no place in the search after truth.” 

Rhetoric had become meretricious, it was a 
source of money-making. Rhetoricians were mer- 
cenaries and nothing more. The divine afflatus had 
ceased to inspire men. Tawdry ornamentation was 
the usurper over literature. The writing of history 
was equally false and showy. Exaggeration and 
boastfulness were its prominent features. Religion 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 

was “ in all things too superstitious ” to result in 
spiritual refinement. 

The modern writers to whom Lucian is com- 
pared are Swift and Voltaire. He is not the cynic 
that V oltaire is. He is more genial and kindly than 
Swift. He is more nearly akin to Swift than to 
Voltaire. Swift in fact is a sort of re-birth of Lu- 
cian. 

Though living so long after the classic period of 
Attic Greek, it is remarkable how Lucian keeps the 
spirit of Attic prose. His style is delightful, always 
graceful, never turgid. It is a rare thing to find an 
author not “ to the manor born ” who has mas- 
tered language as Lucian has his Greek. 


/ 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 

characters: 

CHARON (THE BOATMAN), HERMES, CRCESUS, 


SOLON. 





I_T ERMES — Why are you laughing, Charon? 

-*■ Why did you leave your ferry and come up 
here to our country, when you are not very much 
accustomed to visit on the earth? 

Charon — I wanted to see, Hermes, what things 
are like in the world and what men are doing in it, 
or what it is they are deprived of that makes them 
all groan when they come down to me. For not 
one of them crosses the river without weeping. 
So then, I, too, just like that well-known youth of 
Thessaly,* requested of Pluto that I might for one 
day leave my boat, and have come up to the light. I 
think I have met you in the nick of time. I’m sure 
you will guide me and go around with me and show 
me everything, for you know it all. 

Hermes — I haven’t time, boatman ; I’m going 
away to do some service to mankind for Jupiter. 
He is quick to anger and I’m afraid that if I linger 
he will let me become altogether yours and give me 
over to darkness, or, as he did to Vulcan lately, take 
me by the foot and hurl me sheer over the divine 
battlements, in order that I, too (like Vulcan), limp- 
ing around and pouring wine, may make the gods 
laugh. 

*Protesilaus, who had leave of absence from Hades for a day. 
( 13 ) 


H 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Charon — Will you look on, then, and allow me 
to roam at random over the earth and that, too, 
when you are my companion and fellow-voyager 
and fellow-guide of souls? It were well, child of 
Msea, for you to remember this, that I never or- 
der you to bail out water or to act as oarsman; 
but you snore stretched out on the deck, though you 
have such strong shoulders; or if you find any one 
of the dead who is a good talker you talk with him 
during the whole voyage. But I, old man that I 
am, row the double-oared boat alone. In the name 
of your father Jove, my dear little Hermes, don’t 
leave me, but take me around and show me all the 
things in life, that I may really see something be- 
fore I go back; for if you abandon me, I shall differ 
in no way from the blind. Just as they slip and 
stumble in the darkness, so I, you see, slip in my 
turn, being short-sighted in the light. So grant me 
the favor, Hermes, and I’ll remember it for all time. 

Hermes — This affair will cost me a whipping. 
At least I see that the wages for leading you 
around will not be altogether free from blows. 
However, it must be done. For what can one do 
when a friend urges? To see all things well, one 
after another, is impossible, boatman. The time 
spent would be many years. Then of necessity, 
Jove will proclaim me a runaway slave. The de- 
lay will hinder you, too, from doing the work of 
death, and will compel the government of Pluto to 
punish you for not conveying the dead for a time. 
Then the toll collector yEakus* will be mad if he 

*One of the judges of the lower world. 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 1 5 

doesn’t get his fee of an obol. This must be con- 
sidered, then, how you may see the chief things of 
what is going on. 

Charon — You yourself, Hermes, decide what is 
best. I don’t know anything about matters on the 
earth, for I am a stranger. 

Hermes — To be brief, Charon, we need some 
high place so that we can see everything from it. 
If it were possible for you to go up to Heaven, we 
would not become weary, for you could get a bird’s- 
eye view of everything. But since it is not right 
for one who associates all the time with spirits to 
set foot on the battlements of Jove, it is time for us 
to look out for some high mountain. 

Charon — You know what I usually say to you, 
Hermes, when we are sailing. When the wind blows 
in gusts and strikes the sail aslant, when the waves 
pile high, then you, in ignorance, order me to take 
in sail or to slacken the sheet a little, or to run 
with the wind, but I tell you to keep still, for I know 
what is best. In like manner, you do whatever you 
think is right, as j r ou are the pilot now, and I, just 
as a passenger ought, shall sit down in silence and 
obey your orders in everything. 

Hermes — You are right. I myself know what 
must be done and I’ll find out the proper point of 
view. Is Caucasus suitable, or is Parnassus higher, 
or is that well-known Olympus higher than both? 
It wasn’t a bad thing that I thought of as I looked 
off toward Olympus — but you must toil with me 
and give your assistance. 

Charon — Give your orders; I’ll do everything 
possible to assist you. 


l6 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

Hermes — Homer, the poet, says that the sons of 
Aloeus, two of them at that, while they were still 
children, wanted at one time to draw up Ossa from 
its foundations and place it on Olympus, then Pe- 
lion on top of that, thinking they would thus have a 
sufficiently long ladder and ascend to Heaven. 
However, those youths, since they were insolent, 
paid the penalty. But we two — for we are not de- 
vising any evil against the gods — why can not we 
build after the same fashion, and roll the mountains 
on top of each other that we may have a clearer 
outlook from a loftier place? 

Charon — Hermes, will two of us be able to take 
up Pelion and Ossa and pile them on Olympus? 

Hermes — Why wouldn’t we, Charon? Do you 
think we are more ignoble than those youngsters, 
and that, too, when we are gods from the begin- 
ning? 

Charon — N o, but the affair seems to me to in- 
volve a prodigious amount of work. 

Hermes — Of course, you are an amateur, Char- 
on, and have very little professional skill. The noble 
Homer, with two lines, quickly made Heaven access- 
ible, putting the mountains together with great ease. 
I’m surprised that these things seem wonderful to 
you who certainly know of Atlas, who, single man 
that he is, carries the very vault of Heaven, and 
holds us all up. Perhaps you have heard of my 
brother Herakles, how he once on a time relieved 
that very same Atlas and gave him a little rest from 
his burden, taking the load upon himself. 

Charon — I have heard of that, too; if it is true, 
you, Hermes, and the poets, would know of it. 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 17 

Hermes — It’s a fact, Charon; why would wise 
men falsify about it? So, then, let us pry up Ossa 
first, just as the epic poem and the master poet Ho- 
mer suggests to us, “ Leafy Pelion on Ossa.” Do 
you see how easily and poetically we have done it? 
Come, then, let me go up and see whether this is 
sufficient or whether we must still build upon top 
of this. Pshaw, we are still at the foot of Heaven. 
In the east Ionia and Lydia are barely in sight, in 
the west no more of Italy and Sicily, in the north 
only the regions this side of the Danube, and Crete 
is not clear at all. It seems we must move Mount 
CEta, ferryman, and then put Parnassus on top. 

Charon — Let’s do so, only look out lest we 
make the work too frail, lengthen it out beyond 
what is credible, be hurled down with it, get our 
heads cracked and thus have a bitter experience in 
Homeric architecture. 

Hermes — Be of good cheer, everything will be 
safe — remove Ossa from its place — let Parnassus be 
rolled upon top of it. There you are. I’ll go up 
again. It is all right — I see everything — come up 
at once ! 

Charon — Reach me your hand, Hermes, for 
this is no little scaffold you’re making me climb. 

Hermes — You have to climb it, if you want 
really to see everything, Charon. It isn’t possible 
to be safe and at the same time fond of sight-seeing.. 
But hold on to my right hand and be careful not to 
step on that slippery place. There you are ! You’re 
up ! Since Parnassus has two peaks let’s each one 


2 


l8 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

take a peax and sit down. You now, I beg, look 
about in a circle and inspect everything. 

Charon — I see much land and a sort of great 
lake flowing around it, and mountains and rivers 
larger than Kokytus and Pyriphlegethon and very 
small men and some dens of theirs. 

Hermes — T hose are cities which you call dens. 

Charon — Do you know, Hermes, that we have 
not accomplished anything, but that we have moved 
Parnassus, fountain of Castalia and all, and CEta 
and the other mountains in vain? 

Hermes — Why, how’s that? 

Charon — Nothing clear do I, at least, see from 
this height. I didn’t want to see cities and mountains 
merely, as it were, in pictures, but men themselves, 
and what they are doing and what they are saying. 
Just as it was when you met me first and saw me 
laughing and asked me what I was laughing at. I 
had heard something and was exceedingly pleased. 

Hermes — And what was it? 

Charon — A man, invited by some of his friends 
to dinner on the following day, said, “Yes, I’ll come,” 
and while he was saying it a tile fell from the roof 
of the house (I don’t know what moved it) and 
killed him. That’s the reason I was laughing, 
because the man did not fulfill his promise. I 
think I’ll go down a little that I may see and hear 
more. 

Hermes — Don’t be afraid, I’ll correct this for you 
and make you in short order most keen of sight, 
taking for this purpose a certain passage from 
Homer. When I repeat the verses remember to be 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 19 

short-sighted no longer but to see everything dis- 
tinctlj'. 

Charon — Speak on. 

Hermes — 

“From thine eyes 

The film that dimm’d them I have purg’d away, 

That thou mayst well ’twixt gods and men discern.”* 

How is it now? 

Charon — Superb! That well known Lynkeusf 
was blind compared with me. Teach me further 
and answer when I ask questions. But if you wish 
I’ll question you in Homeric phrase, that you may 
know that I, too, am not neglectful of my Homer. 

Hermes — How are you able to know any of his 
verses, you who have always been a sailor and an 
oarsman? 

Charon — Look here, that’s a reflection on my 
business. When I was ferrying Homer across after 
he died I heard him singing many of his rhapsodies 
and I still remember some of them. When he be- 
gan to sing a certain ode not very propitious for 
sailors, telling how Poseidon collected the clouds 
and disturbed the sea, throwing in his trident like a 
sort of ladle, and how he aroused all the winds, and 
many other things of that sort, stirring up the sea 
with his verses, suddenly a storm and darkness fell 
upon us and almost upset the boat. About that 
time he became sea-sick and threw up most of his 
rhapsodies, Scylla, Charybdis, Cyclops and all. It 
wasn’t a hard thing to save from such a vomiting a 
few of his verses. Tell me — 

“Who is this stout man brave and mighty 
Excelling all men in head and broad shoulders? ” 
♦Following Derby’s translation. 
tOne of the Argonauts famous for his keen sight. 


20 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Hermes — That is Milo, the Athlete from Croton. 
The Greeks are applauding him because he takes 
up the bull and carries it through the middle of 
the stadium. 

Charon — How much more justly, Hermes, they 
should praise me who shall seize this very Milo, 
after a little, and put him in my boat, when he comes 
to me, thrown down by the most invincible of his 
antagonists, Death, not even knowing how it trip- 
ped him up. Then we shall hear him groan, evi- 
dently remembering these crowns and this applause. 
But now he is proud, admired for carrying the bul- 
lock. What shall we think about him? Shall we 
think that he expects to die some day? 

Hermes — Why should he think of death now, 
when at such a pitch of glory? 

Charon — He will furnish us laughter at no dis # 
tant time when he takes a sail in our boat, not even 
being able to lift a gnat, let alone a bullock. But 
tell me this — 

“ Who is this other stately man? ” 

not a Greek as it seems, from his attire at least. 

Hermes — Cyrus, Charon, the son of Cambyses, 
who, though the Medes have for a long time held 
the government, just now put it under the control 
of the Persians. He lately conquered the Assyr- 
ians, brought Babylon over to his side and now is 
desiring to march against Lydia, so as to over- 
throw Croesus and rule the world. 

Charon — And Croesus, where in the world is he? 

Hermes — Look off there at the great citadel, 
with the triple wall. That is Sardis, and you see 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 


21 


Croesus himself reclining on a golden couch talking 
with Solon the Athenian. Shall we listen to what 
they say? 

Charon — Yes, indeed. 

Croesus — Athenian stranger, since you have seen 
my wealth, and treasures, and how much gold in 
bullion I have, and my expenditures besides, tell 
me, who do you think is the happiest of all men? 

Charon — What will Solon say? 

Hermes — Have courage, he will say nothing 
base, Charon. 

Solon — Croesus, the happy are few in number — 
I consider Kleobis and Biton, sons of the Priestess 
of Argos, the happiest men I know. 

Charon — He means those who died together 
lately after they had gone under the yoke and 
drawn their mother on her wagon to the temple. 

Crcesus — All right — let them have the first place 
in happiness. The second, then, who is he? 

Solon — Tellus, the Athenian, who lived up- 
rightly, and died for his fatherland. 

Crcesus — But I, you wretch, I do not seem to 
you to be happy? 

Solon — I don’t know yet, Crcesus, and shall not, 
till you come to the end of your life. For death 
and living happily up to the end are the sure proof 
of such things. 

Charon — Bravo, Solon, because you have not for- 
gotten me. You think it right that the decision 
about such matters be made at the ferry alone. But 
who are those whom Crcesus is sending away, and 
what are they carrying on their shoulders? 

Hermes — He is offering to the Pythian Apollo 


22 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


bricks of gold as pay for the oracles, by which he 
will perish a little later on. The man is extraordi- 
narily fond of prophecies. 

Charon — And that’s gold, is it, that gleaming, 
shining substance, pale and yet reddish? This is 
the first time I have seen it, though I have always 
heard of it. 

Hermes — That’s the famous and much fought 
about thing, Charon. 

Charon — I don’t see what good there is in it, 
unless there is this one, that those who carry it are 
weighted down. 

Hermes — Why, don’t you know how many wars, 
how many schemes and piracies, broken oaths, mur- 
ders, imprisonments, long voyages, bargains in 
trade and acts of slavery are caused by it? 

Charon — It is on this account, isn’t it, that it 
does not differ much from brass? I know of brass, 
taking an obol, as you know, of each one of those 
who sail below. 

Hermes — Yes, but brass is plentiful so that it is 
not very much sought after by men. Miners, how- 
ever, dig up gold in small quantities and from a great 
depth. This, too, is produced from the earth as lead 
and other metals. 

Charon — You are telling me of a vast amount 
of stupidity in men if they have such deep love for 
a pale and heavy stuff. 

Hermes — That well-known Solon, at least, 
Charon, does not appear to love it. He, as you see, 
is ridiculing Croesus and the boastfulness of the bar- 
barian, and, as it seems to me, wants to ask him 
something. Let us listen, then. 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 23 

Solon — Tell me, Croesus, do jmu think the Pyth- 
ian Apollo has any need for these bricks of gold? 

Crcesus — Of course. Why, he has no such offer- 
ing in Delphi. 

Solon — Do you, then, think it will make the 
god happy if he could acquire, with the other of- 
ferings, golden bricks, too? 

Crcesus — Why wouldn’t it? 

Solon — There is great poverty in Heaven by 
what you say, I think, if it will be necessary for the 
gods to send for gold from Lydia, if they ever de- 
sire any. 

Crcesus — Why, where can there be so much 
gold as with me? 

Solon — Tell me, is iron produced in Lydia? 

Crcesus — Not very much. 

Solon — You are in need, then, of that better 
thing. 

Crcesus — How is iron better than gold? 

Solon — If you will answer me without anger, 
you will learn. 

Crcesus — Ask on, Solon. 

Solon — Who are better, those who save people 
or those who are saved by them? 

Crcesus — Those who save, evidently. 

Solon — Well, then, if Cyrus, as some are now 
saying, shall attack the Lydians, will you make 
gold swords for your army, or will iron be neces- 
sary then? 

Crcesus — Plainly, iron will be needed. 

Solon — If you should not prepare this iron your 
gold will be carried off to Persia. 

Crcesus — Be careful what you are saying, man. 


24 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Solon — Maj r this not come to pass? At any 
rate, you plainly acknowledge that iron is better 
than gold. 

Crcesus — Do you wish me, therefore, to offer 
bricks of iron to the gods and call the gold back 
again? 

Solon — Not even of iron will the god be in 
need, but whether you consecrate brass or gold you 
will have offered wealth and treasure to others, 
either to the Phokeans* or Bceotions* or the Delphi- 
ans* themselves, or some tyrant or robber; but the 
god cares little for your goldsmiths. 

Crcesus — You are always contending against 
and envious of my wealth. 

Hermes — Charon, the Lydian can not endure 
the frankness and truthfulness of his words. It 
seems to him a strange thing that a poor man 
does not crouch before him instead of speaking 
freely what occurs to him. A little later on, how- 
ever, when he wilt be compelled as a prisoner 
to mount the funeral pj r re by order of Cyrus he will 
remember Solon. For I heard Klothof lately read- 
ing each one’s fate, in which this was written: 
Croesus will be captured by Cyrus, and Cyrus will 
die at the hands of that well-known Massagetis. 
Do you see the Scythian woman, the one riding the 
white horse? 

Charon — Yes. 

Hermes — That is Tomyris. She will cut off 
the head of Cyrus and throw it into a sack full of 

•All of whom fought for the control of the Delphian Temple. 

tOne of the fates. 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 


2 5 


blood. Do you see his son, too, the young man? 
That is Cambyses. He will be king after his father, 
and, meeting with a thousand calamities in Libya 
and ^Ethiopia, will finally turn mad and die after 
killing the sacred bull Apis. 

Charon — O, what great fun! But who could bear ' 
to look upon them as they so arrogantly treat others? 
Who would believe that after a little this Croesus 
will be a prisoner and that Cyrus will lose his own 
head in a sack of blood? But who is that, Hermes 
— that man with a purple mantle buckeled over his 
shoulders — that man with a diadem, to whom the 
cook is giving back the ring, after he has cut up the 
fish? That man 

“In the sea girt isle and boasting to be a king?” 

Hermes — You are already making first-rate par- 
odies, Charon. You are looking at Polykrates, the 
tyrant of Samos, a man who boasts that he is alto- 
gether happy. But this man, too, will be betrayed by 
his present servant, Mseandrius, and then be impaled 
by Oroetes the Satrap, falling thus wretchedlj’- from 
his happiness in a moment of time. I know this, 
for I heard Klotho read it. 

Charon — I admire thee, noble Klotho. Burn 
them, my good friend; cut off their heads; impale 
them, that they may know that they are but men; let 
them be exalted to such a degree that they may fall 
the more grievously from a loftier height. Then I 
shall laugh when I recognize each one of them 
stripped in my boat, bringing with them neither pur- 
ple robe nor tiara nor golden couch. 

Hermes — They will fare thus, but do you see 


26 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


the multitude, Charon; some sailing, some fighting, 
some in courts of justice, some cultivating the soil, 
some loaning money and some begging? 

Charon — I see a motley crowd, and the world 
full of confusion. I see the cities of men which 
look like bee-hives, in which every man has a 
sort of goad of his own and pricks his neighbor; 
but some few, just as wasps, rob and plunder the 
weaker. But that crowd fljdng around them in an 
obscure way, who are they? 

Hermes — Hopes, Charon, fears, follies, pleas- 
ures, avarice, anger, hatred and the like. And of 
these, folly has mingled with them and lives with 
them on the earth, and, by Jupiter, hatred too, and 
anger and envy and ignorance and avarice. Fear 
and hopes, however, fly above them. The former 
falls upon and frightens them; sometimes even 
makes them crouch with terror, but hopes, hover- 
ing over their heads, whenever anyone thinks he 
will surely lay hold of them, go flying off, leaving 
him standing agape, just like Tantalus in the 
lower world waiting for the water to rise. If 
you gaze intently you will see the Fates, too, over 
there weaving the thread of destiny for each one 
on a spindle from which it happens that all are 
hanging by light threads. Do you see, as it were, 
certain spiders’ webs descending upon each one 
from the spindles? 

Charon — I see a very light thread for each one, 
for the most part entangled, this one with that one, 
and that one with another. 

Hermes — Naturally, boatman. It is fated that 
that man shall be killed by this one, and this one 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 27 

by another, and this one shall be the heir of that 
one, whose thread may be too small, and that one 
again be the heir of this one. The entanglement 
means just this. You see that they are all hang- 
ing by a hair. This one has been drawn up high, 
and after little, by the breaking of the thread, 
when it can no longer hold out against the weight, 
he will fall with a great crash; but this other one, 
raised but little from the earth, when he, too, drops, 
will make no noise, his neighbors scarcely catching 
a sound of his fall. 

Charon — That is all very amusing, Hermes. 

Hermes — You could not really say how ludi- 
crous it is, Charon, especially their excessive eager- 
ness and the fact that right in the midst of their 
hopes they are snatched away by most excellent 
Death. His messengers and ministers are very 
numerous, as you see — chills and fever, consump- 
tion, pneumonia, swords, robberies, hemlock, judges 
and tyrants. No thought of these ever enters their 
minds while they are prosperous, but when they 
meet with calamities, numerous are the alas ! es and 
oh ! s and woe is me ! s. If from the first they thought 
of this, that they are mortal and that it is only a 
little time they will sojourn in life before they go 
away, as it were, out of a dream, leaving everything 
on the earth, they would live more temperately and 
be less grieved at dying. Now, however, expecting 
always to enjoy the present life, whenever the min- 
ister of death stands near and calls them and leads 
them away, binding them with fever or consump- 
tion, they are grieving at being taken away because 
they never expected that they would be separated 


28 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


from the pleasures of life. Why, what would that 
man do, who is eagerly building a house and urg- 
ing on his workmen, if he should learn that the 
house will not be finished for him, but that he himself 
just putting on the roof will go away and leave his 
heir to enjoy it, the wretched man not even having 
eaten in it? And the man who rejoices because his 
wife bore him a boy and entertains his friends on 
this account and gives the name of his father to 
his boy, if he knew that the child would die when 
he was seven years old, do you think that man 
would rejoice at the birth of the boy? The cause 
is that he sees the man who is fortunate in his 
child, the father of a victor in the Olympian games 
for instance, but his neighbor who is carrying out 
his k boy for burial he does not see, nor does he know 
by how slender a thread the child was hanging. 
Y ou see how numerous those are who quarrel over 
boundaries and who collect money; then, before 
they enjoy it, you see them summoned by those I 
called the messengers and minsters of death. 

Charon — I see all this and I wonder to myself 
what sweetness is in their life, or what that is at the 
loss of which they are distressed. If any one look 
at their kings, who seem to be happy, aside from 
their insecure and, as you say, wavering fortune, he 
will find their woes more numerous than their 
pleasures, for example, their fears, troubles, hatred, 
plots, wrath and flattery. All these abide with 
them. I pass by sorrows and diseases, and feelings 
which plainly rule them on an equality with other 
people. Where the affairs of kings are bad, there 
is occasion to consider of what sort the concerns of 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 29 

private people would be. I want to tell you, by the 
way, Hermes, what men and their whole life 
seem to me to be like. Have you ever seen bub- 
bles in the water arising from a torrent tumbling 
down? I mean the bubbles from which foam is 
collected. Well, some of them are small and break 
up and vanish at once, while others last longer, and 
by the addition of new ones are puffed up into a 
very great bulk; afterward, however, these, too, are 
entirely burst asunder. It can not be otherwise. 
This is man’s life. All are puffed up, some with 
more, and some with less wind. Some have an in- 
flation lasting a short time, others collapse as soon 
as they are made. 

Hermes — Your comparisons are equal to Ho- 
mer’s, Charon, who likens the human race to 
leaves. 

Charon — You see what they are, Hermes, and 
what they are doing, and how they ambitiously 
strive with one another for offices, and honors and 
possessions. All of which they must leave behind 

them, and come to us with one obol. Do you wish, 

then, since we are on a high place, that I cry out to 
them with all my strength and advise them to re- 
frain from their vain toils, and to live with death 
always before their eyes, saying, “ Oh, vain man, 
why are you so eager for these things? Stop wor- 
rying; you will not live forever. Notone of these 
objects of reverence here is everlasting, nor can a 
man take any of them with him when he dies. On 
the contrary, he must go stripped; his house and 
field, and gold, must belong to others, must change 
masters.” If I should cry out to them this, and 


30 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


things of this kind, from a place within hearing 
distance, do you not think their life would be 
greatly benefited, and that they would become far 
wiser? 

Hermes — My dear sir, you don’t know how ig- 
norance and deceit have affected them so that their 
ears could not even be opened with an auger. They 
have stopped up their ears with wax, just as Odys- 
seus did his companions’ through fear of their 
hearing the Sirens. How then would they be able 
to hear, even if you should split yourself with 
shouting? What Lethe is able to do in the lower 
world, this ignorance does here. But there are a few 
of them who have not received the wax into their 
ears. These incline to truth. They have looked 
sharply into, and have scrutinized matters, to see 
what their nature is. 

Charon — Shall we cry out to them, then? 

Hermes — This were superfluous to tell them 
what they know. Y ou see how they withdraw from 
the crowd and laugh at what is going on and in no 
way are pleased with them, but are evidently plan- 
ning an escape from life to you? The reason is, 
they are actually hated because they convict the 
masses of ignorance. 

Charon — Good for you, noble fellows. They are 
very few, Hermes. 

Hermes — They are sufficient. But let us go 
down at once. 

Charon — There is still one thing I want to 
know, Hermes, and if you show me that you will 
have made your description complete. I want to 
see where they dig the burial places for their dead. 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 31 

Hermes — They call such places mounds and 
tombs and sepulchers. Do you see those mounds 
of earth, and columns and pillars in front of the city? 
They are all used to receive and preserve the dead. 

Charon — Why, then, are those people placing 
garlands on the gravestones and anointing them 
with myrrh? Others have made a funeral pyre, too, 
before the mounds and have dug a trench and are 
burning costly banquets, pouring wine and a mix- 
ture of honey and milk into the trenches, so far, at 
least, as one can conjecture. Why do they do 
this? 

Hermes — I don’t know, boatman, what good 
this will do those in Hades. They believe, how- 
ever, that the souls come up from below and feast 
richly, flying around in the incense and smoke, and 
that they drink the mixed honey and milk from the 
trench. 

Charon — They still drink or eat whose skulls 
are absolutely bare of flesh ! And yet it is ridicu- 
lous for me to be saying this to you who lead them 
every day down to Hades. You know whether 
they could come up again, after they have once for 
all been in the lower regions. Your lot would be 
altogether preposterous, Hermes, with all the work 
you have, if you were compelled not only to guide 
them down, but also to bring them up again to 
get a drink. O, what folly not to know by what 
boundaries the affairs of the dead and of the living 
are separated and of what sort things with us below 
are and that: 

“ Alike are the entombed and the tombless.” 


32 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

“In the same honor Iros* and the ruler Agamemnon are held.” 
"The son of the fair-haired Thetis is on a par with Thersites.f ,r 

“All alike are the fleeting heads of the dead. 

Stripped and dry throughout the Asphodel meadow.” 

Hermes — O, Herakles, you’ve pumped Homer 
over me till you’ve drenched me! But since you 
reminded me of it, I want to show you the tomb of 
Achilles. Do you see that one on the seashore? 
That is the Trojan Sigeum. Ajax is buried over 
against it in Rhceteum. 

Charon — The tombs are not large, Hermes. 
Show me, now, their well known cities, which we 
hear of below, Nineveh, the city of Sardanapalus, 
Babylon, Mykenae, Kleonae, and Troy itself. I re- 
member ferrying over many from Troy, so that for 
ten whole years I did not draw my boat ashore and 
give it a good cleaning. 

Hermes — Nineveh, boatman, has already per- 
ished, and there is no longer a trace of it; no, you 
could not say where in the world 1 it was. And that 
well known city, Babylon, with five towers of 
mighty circuit, in a short time will itself be 
searched for, just like Nineveh. Mykenae and 
Kleonae, I am ashamed to show to you, and most 
of all, Troy. For, I’m sure you will throttle Homer 
when you go down, on account of his lofty verses 
about it. Long ago, however, they were prosper- 
ous, but now these, too, are dead. For cities, boat- 
man, die just as men, and what is most paradox- 

*The beggar who visits the suitors of Penelope in the Odys- 
sey. 

tThe ugliest of the Greeks about Troy. 


CHARON, OR THE OBSERVERS. 


33 


ical, whole rivers also. At least, not even a ditch 
is left of the Inachus in Argos. 

Charon — Alas for your encomiums, Homer, 
and your names of “ Sacred and wide-wayed Troy” 
and “ Well-built Kleonae.” By the way, who are 
those men waging war? Why are they killing one 
another? 

Hermes — You see Argives, Charon, and Lake- 
dsemonians and that half-dead general Othryades, 
who is writing an inscription on the trophy with 
his own blood. 

Charon — But about what are they having the 
war? 

Hermes — About the plain itself in which they 
are fighting. 

Charon — O, what folly not to know that even if 
they get possession of the Peloponnesus they could 
scarcely get a foot square from ^Eakus.* At one 
time one party will till this plain, at another time 
another, often drawing up the trophy from its foun- 
dation with the plow. 

Hermes — This will do. Let us go down now, 
put the mountain in place carefully and depart, I to 
that for which I was sent, you to your ferry. I’ll 
come to you after little with some dead. 

Charon — You have done well by me, Hermes. 
You shall be proclaimed a benefactor forever. 
Through you I have received some pleasure from 
my outing. How heedless is humanity ! Not a 
thought for Charon ! 

* One of the judges of the lower world. 

3 








DIALOGUES OF THE DEAD. 


( 35 ) 



HERMES AND CHARON, 


Hermes — Let’s have a settlement, boatman, if 
you please, as to how much you owe me at the 
present time, that we may not hereafter have any 
quarrel about the amount. 

Charon — Let’s have the settlement, Hermes. It 
is better to fix the matter and it is less troublesome, 
too. 

Hermes — I procured an anchor at your order 
for five drachmae. 

CharcJn — Y ou put a big price on it. 

Hermes — Yes, by Pluto, I bought it for five 
drachmae, and a leather thong for two obols. 

Charon — Fix the cost at five drachmae and two 
obols. 

Hermes — A nd a needle for your sail. Five obols 
I laid down for it. 

Charon — Add these to the cost, also. 

Hermes — Some wax, too, to plaster over the 
openings in the boat, and nails and a little cord 
from which you made your halyard; two drachmae 
for all these. 

Charon — You got them cheap. 

Hermes — That’s all, unless some other thing es- 
caped us in our calculation. When do you say you 
will pay this back? 


( 37 ) 


38 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Charon — Can’t do it now, Hermes, but if some 
pestilence or war send us crowds of dead, then it 
will be possible to make a profit by false reckoning 
of the ferry dues. 

Hermes — Shall I sit down now, and pray for the 
greatest calamities to happen in order that I may 
receive gain by them? 

Charon — There is no other way, Hermes. Now, 
as you see, few are coming to us, for it is a time of 
peace. 

Hermes — It is better thus, if the debt could be 
prolonged by you. But the ancients, Charon, you 
know of what sort they were who came to us, man- 
ly, all of them, full of blood, and many of them 
wounded. But now one comes either killed with 
poison by his servant, or by his wife, or by his lux- 
uriant living, swollen in stomach and limbs, all pale 
and mean, not at all like those of ancient days. 
The most of them have come scheming against each 
other on account of money, as it seems. 

Charon — Why, money is very much to be de- 
sired. 

Hermes — I shall not seem, then, to make a mis- 
take if I demand sharply what is due from you. 


DIOGENES AND POLLUX. 


Diogenes — Pollux, I command you, as soon as 
you go up on earth — since it is your turn to return 
to life to-morrow — if you see Menippus, the cynic, 
and you will find him at Korinth in the Kraneum, 
or in the Lyceum, laughing at the philosophers 
quarreling with each other, to say to him, “ Men- 
ippus, Diogenes urges you, if the things on earth 
have been laughed at sufficiently, to come down 
here and laugh much more. For there your laugh- 
ter is in doubt and the saying is often heard, ‘ Why, 
who really knows the future life?’ But here you 
will not stop laughing heartily just as I do now, and 
especially when you see the rich and the satraps 
and tyrants so lowly and insignificant, recog- 
nized by their groaning only, and the fact that they, 
weak and ignoble, call to mind the affairs above.” 
Tell him this, and, besides, to come with his wallet 
full of lupines and whatever meal he can find lying 
at the cross-roads of Hekate,* whether an egg for 
purification, or any such thing. 

Pollux — Well, I’ll tell him that, Diogenes. But 
tell me how I may really know what kind of a man 
he is in appearance. 

* The mysterious goddess of the lower world to whom dishes 
of food were offered at cross-roads. 

( 39 ) 


4 ° 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Diogenes — He is an old man, bald-headed, with 
a cloak full of holes, flying open with every wind, and 
variegated with patches of rags. He is always laugh- 
ing and scoffing at the wandering philosophers. 

Pollux — It is an easy matter to find him from 
this description. 

Diogenes — Do you wish that I shall order you 
to tell these very philosophers something, too? 

Pollux — Speak on. This will not be burden- 
some. 

Diogenes — In short, command them to stop 
talking nonsense, and stop quarreling about the 
universe, and making horns grow for one another, 
and making sophisms about crocodiles, and teach- 
ing their youths to ask about such difficult prob- 
lems. 

Pollux — But they will say that I am ignorant 
and uneducated in finding fault with their soph- 
istry. 

Diogenes — You tell them in my name to go 
howl. 

Pollux — I shall tell them that, too, Diogenes. 

Diogenes — And, my dear Pollux, announce this 
to the rich from us: “ Why, ye fools, do you guard 
your gold? Why do you punish yourselves reckon- 
ing up interest and collecting talents upon talents, 
you who must after a little come to us with one 
obol?” 

Pollux — This, too, shall be told them. 

Diogenes — But tell the handsome and strong 
Megillus, the Korinthian, and Damoxenus, the 
wrestler, that with us there is no longer blond hair 
nor gleaming black eyes nor red cheeks nor sinewy 


DIOGENES AND POLLUX. 


4 * 


nerves nor strong shoulders, but all with us are 
alike — skulls stripped of beauty. 

Pollux — Not even this is hard to tell tfe the 
handsome and strong. 

Diogenes — Tell the poor, Lakonian — and they 
are many and weighted down with trouble, lament- 
ing their wants — tell them not to weep nor to 
mourn. Tell them of the equality of privilege here, 
and that they will see all the rich people there no 
better than they are. Censure your Lakonians, too, 
in this regard, if } r ou please, in my name, and tell 
them they have become enfeebled. 

Pollux — Don’t say anything about the Lakoni- 
ans, Diogenes, for I will not allow it. But what 
you said to the others I shall announce. 

Diogenes — Let us pass them by, since it pleases 
you. You carry my words to those whom I men- 
tioned first. 


CHARON, HERMES AND VARIOUS 
DEAD. 


Charon — Hear ye, how our affairs stand. Our 
boat is, as you see, little and somewhat rotten, and 
leaks in many places; if it turn on its side, over it 
will go. You have come, so many at one time, 
each one bringing many articles along with him.- 
If you embark with them, I am afraid you will re- 
pent of it afterwards, especially so many of you as 
don’t know how to swim. 

One of the Dead — What shall we do to have 
a safe voyage? 

Charon — I’ll tell you. You must come on 
board stripped, leaving behind on shore all your su- 
perfluous effects. Even then the boat would hardly 
hold you. Y ou, Hermes, see to it that from this time 
on not one of them is received who does not come 
bare, leaving his movables, as I said. Stand at 
the gang plank and distinguish them and take them 
up on board compelling them to come on stripped. 

Hermes — You are right, so let us do. This first 
man, who is he? 

Menippus — I am Menippus. But look you, 
Hermes, let my wallet and my staff be hurled into 
the lake. I did well not to bring my cloak. 

(42) 


CHARON, HERMES AND VARIOUS DEAD. 43 


Hermes — Come on board, Menippus, best of 
men, and take a front seat near the pilot, up high, so 
that you may see all together. This handsome fel- 
low, who is he? 

Charmolaus — Charmolaus, the Megarian, the 
lovely, whose kiss was worth two talents. 

Hermes — Strip off your beauty and your lips, 
kisses and all, and your heavy head of hair, and the 
blush on your cheeks, and your whole skin. That’s 
good; you are well-girdled. Come on board now. 
But this man with the purple robe and the diadem — 
the grim fellow — who are you? 

Lampichus — I am Lampichus, the tyrant of 
Gela. 

Hermes — Why, then, Lampichus, are you here 
with so much plunder? 

Lampichus — Why, was it befitting, Hermes, for 
a tyrant to come divested of everything? 

Hermes — Not a tyrant at all, only a dead man. 
So put these things aside. 

Lampichus — Look you, my wealth is thrown 
away. 

Hermes — Throw away your conceit, too, Lamp- 
ichus, and your haughtiness; they will sink the 
boat when they fall into it. 

Lampichus — Just let me keep my diadem, at 
least, and my mantle. 

Hermes — No, sir, lay them aside, too. 

Lampichus — Very well, what else? I have 
thrown away everything, as you see. 

Hermes — Your cruelty and your folly and your 
insolence and your anger, lay them off, too. 

Lampichus — B ehold! I am stripped. 


44 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Hermes — Go on board now. You stout man, 
you corpulent fellow, who are you? 

Damasias — Damasias, the athlete. 

Hermes — Yes, you look like him. For I know 
I have seen you often in the palaestra. 

Damasias — Yes, Hermes, just take me naked. 

Hermes — Not naked, my good friend, when 
clothed with so much flesh. So strip it off, other- 
wise you will sink the boat if you put only one foot 
over the gunwale. But throw away those crowns 
and proclamations. 

Damasias — I am really bare, as you see, and 
equal in weight to the other dead. 

Hermes — It is better to be thus without weight. 
Now go on board. And you, Ruler, lay aside your 
riches, your effeminacy and your luxury. Don’t 
bring your fine grave clothes, nor the dignity of 
your ancestors, but leave behind your family, your 
glory and whatever proclamation the city made for 
you, and the inscriptions on the statutes. Don’t 
say that they heaped up a great tomb over you. 
Even the mention of these things is heavy. 

Ruler — Not willingly, but I shall throw them 
away. What could I do? 

Hermes — Bless me! Y ou man in armor, what do 
you want? Why are you bringing this trophy? 

General — Because I conquered, Hermes, and 
was brave, and the city hbnored me. 

Hermes — Lay aside the trophy on the earth. In 
Hades there is peace, and there will be no need of 
arms. But this solemn man, at least in his mien, 
this swaggerer, with his eye-brows aloft, deep in 


CHARON, HERMES AND VARIOUS DEAD. 45 

anxious thought, the one with the long beard, who 
is he? 

Menippus — A sort of a philosopher, Hermes, 
nay, rather a juggler full of trickery. Strip him, too. 
You will see much that is funny under his cloak. 

Hermes — Strip off first your mien, then all these 
things. O, Jove, how much knavery he carries— 
how much ignorance and strife, and vain glory and 
difficult questions and thorny arguments, and intri- 
cate speculations, yes, and very much useless labor 
and not a little nonsense and babblings, and frivo- 
lous talk; this gold, too, and soft living, and shame- 
lessness, and anger, and luxury, and effeminacy. 
They have not escaped me if you do wrap them up 
carefully. Your falsehood, too, lay that aside, and 
your conceit, and the thinking you are better than 
others. Should you go on board with all these, 
what fifty-oared ship would hold you? 

Philosopher — I am laying them aside, since 
you so order. 

Menippus — Let him put off this beard, too, 
Hermes, since it is heavy and shaggy, as you see. 
There are five pounds of hair, at least. 

Hermes — Y ou are right. Lay this aside also. 

Philosopher — W ho will be the one to cut it off? 

Hermes — Menippus here will take a ship car- 
penter’s ax and cut it off, using the gang plank as a 
head block. * 

Menippus — No, Hermes, give me a saw. That 
will be more comical. 

Hermes — The ax is good enough. That’s good. 
Now you appear more human since you are rid of 
the goat odor. 


4 6 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Menippus — Shall I take off a little of his eye- 
brows, too? 

Hermes — Yes, for he has raised them over his 
forehead and stretched himself up, I don’t know why. 
What’s this mean? Are you weeping, you wretch? 
Do you flinch in the presence of death? Go on 
board, anyhow. 

Menippus — He still has one very heavy thing 
under his arm. 

Hermes — What is it, Menippus? 

Menippus — Flattery, Hermes, which has been 
useful to him in many ways in his life. 

Philosopher — You, too, Menippus, lay off your 
freedom, your boldness of speech, your lack of seri- 
ousness, your pride of character, and your laughter. 

Hermes — By no means; keep these things, for 
they will be easy to carry and useful for the voyage 
down. You, the orator, put off your boundless lo- 
quacity, your antitheses, your similes, your periods, 
your barbarisms and the rest of your weighty words. 

Orator — Behold, I am laying them aside. 

Hermes — That’s good; go cast off the lines, take 
up the gangplank, draw up the anchor, unfurl the 
sail, mind the helm, ferryman. Let us have a good 
voyage. Why do you groan, ye fools, especially 
the philosopher, you who just had your beard cut 
off? 

Philosopher — Because, Hermes, I thought the 
soul was immortal. 

Menippus — He lies; it is likely that something 
else grieves him. 

Hermes — What? 

Menippus — Because he will no longer feast at 


CHARON, HERMES AND VARIOUS DEAD. 47 


the costly banquets, nor go around by night un- 
known to all people, wrapping up his head in a 
mantle and frequent the brothels, and because he 
will no longer deceive the youths early in the morn- 
ing and receive pay for this wisdom. That’s what 
troubles him. 

Philosopher — Why, Menippus, are you not 
grieved at dying? 

Menippus — How so, I who hastened to meet 
death though no one summoned me? But while we 
were speaking didn’t you hear a noise as of some 
persons crying from the earth? 

Hermes — Yes, Menippus, not from one place 
merely, but some men have come together into the 
assembly and are having a good time laughing over 
the death of Lampichus. His wife, too, is seized 
and held by the women and his young children 
likewise, even these are hit by the boys with innu- 
merable stones. But others are praising the orator, 
Diophantus, who is rehearsing his funeral orations 
in Sikyon over this ruler here. And, by Jupiter, the 
mother of Damasias is beginning her song of sor- 
row with the women over Damasias. But for you 
no one sheds tears, Menippus; you lie there alone 
quietly. 

Menippus — Not at all; you will hear the dogs 
after little howling most dolefully over me and the 
crows flapping their wings when they come to- 
gether to bury me. 

Hermes — You are a fine fellow, Menippus. 
When we have landed, you proceed to the judg- 
ment hall, going straight forward there, while the 
ferryman and I will go back for others. 


4 8 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Menippus — Fair voyage to you, Hermes. But 
let us go forward. Why are you still lingering? It 
will be altogether necessary to be judged, and the 
penalties, they say, are heavy — wheels, stones and 
vultures. Each man’s life will be laid bare. 


NIREUS,* THERSITESf AND MENIP- 
PUS. 


Nireus — Look you, Menippus here will decide 
which of us is the handsomer. Tell me, Menippus, 
don’t you think I am handsome? 

Menippus — Who are you? It is necessary, I 
think, to know that first. 

Nireus — We are Nireus and Thersites. 

Menippus — Which is Nireus and which is Ther- 
sites? That isn’t plain yet. 

Thersites — I have now this one characteristic 
that I look like you, and you do not excel me by so 
much as that blind Homer said you did when he 
praised you as handsomer than all men. But I, the 
man with the peaked and bald head, appeared no 
uglier to the judge. But consider, Menippus, whom 
you think handsomer. 

“ Nireus, to Charops whom Aglzea bore ; 

Nireus, the goodliest man of all the Greeks, 

Who came to Troy.” 

Menippus — But jmu are not the handsomest 
man that has come under the earth, as I think. 
Your bones are alike, but your skull could be dis- 

* The handsomest man in the Greek army around Troy. 
tThe ugliest man in the Greek army around Troy. 

4 ( 49 ) 


50 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


tinguished from that of Thersites only by this, that 
yours could easily be cracked. For yours is weak 
and puny. 

Nireus — But ask Homer what I was when I 
joined the army of the Achaeans. 

Menippus — You are dreaming. I look at what 
you are now; what you were then the men of that 
time will know. 

Nireus — Am I not handsomer here, Menippus? 

Menippus — Neither you nor any other man is 
handsome. Equality rules in Hades and all are 
alike. 

Thersites — That's good enough for me. 


MENIPPUS AND HERMES 


Menippus — Where are the handsome men and 
women, Hermes? Show me around since I am a 
new-comer. 

Hermes — I haven’t time, Menippus. But look 
off there to the right. There is Hyakinthus,* and 
Narkissus, and Nireus, and Achilles, and Tyro, and 
Helen, and Leda, in short, all the ancient beauties. 

Menippus — I see only bones and skulls, all alike, 
stripped of flesh. 

Hermes — However, those bones which you seem 
to despise are what all the poets admired. 

Menippus — Show me Helen, at least. I can’t 
myself discover her. 

Hermes — This skull here is Helen. 

Menippus — Was it for this that the thousand 
ships from all Greece were manned? Did so many 
Greeks and Barbarians fall and were so many cities 
razed for this? 

Hermes — You didn’t see her when she was liv- 
ing, Menippus. Y ou, too, would say it was not a 
marvel 

'• The valiant Trojans and the well-greav’d Greeks 
For beauty such as this should long endure 
The toils of war.” 

If any one should see flowers when they are with- 

♦Beautiful youths from whose blood sprang the hyacinth and 
narcissus. 

(S 1 ) 


5 2 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


ered, their freshness gone, clearly they will seem to 
him to be without beauty; when, however, they 
blossom and have their color, they are most beau- 
tiful. 

Menippus — I wonder at this, Hermes, that the 
Achseans did not understand that they were toil- 
ing about a matter so ephemeral and fading so 
easily. 

Hermes — I haven’t time, Menippus, to philoso- 
phize with you; so you select a place wherever you 
wish and seat yourself there, while I go at once af- 
ter other dead. 


MENIPPUS AND ^EAKUS. 


Menippus — B y Pluto, ./Eakus, take me around 
and show me all the sights in Hades. 

^Eakus — I t is not easy to show you all. You 
may, however, learn some of the chief things. This 
is the watch dog Kerberus, you know. The ferry- 
man who brought you over and the lake of fire, 
Pyriphlegethon, you saw as you came in. 

Menippus — I know them. Inasmuch as you 
keep the gate, I saw you, too, and the King and the 
Furies. But show me the men of ancient days and 
especially the distinguished ones among them. 

iEAKUs — This is Agamemnon; this is Achilles; 
here near by us is Idomeneus; here Odysseus; next 
Ajax and Diomedes, and the noblest of the Greeks. 

Menippus — Bless me, Homer, how the great he- 
roes of your songs are scattered on the ground here 
unknown and shapeless, all dust, mere trifles, puny 
heads indeed ! This man, yEakus, who is he? 

uEakus— T his is Cyrus; this one is Kroesus; the 
one bej'ond him is Sardanapallus; the one beyond 
them is Minos, and over yonder is Xerxes. 

Menippus — Is it so, you wretch, that Greece 
trembled at you when you were bridging the Helles- 
pont and planning to sail through the mountains?* 

* Xerxes cut a canal through Mt. Athos. 

( 53 ) 


54 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


What a fine show Kroesus makes ! And Sardan- 
apallus, ^Eakus, — just let me hit him on the head. 

utEakus — D on’t do it; you will break his skull 
as it is soft. 

Menippus — I will spit on the effeminate fellow, 
anyhow. 

iEAKUS — Do you want me to show you the wise 
men, too? 

Menippus — Yes, by Jupiter, I do. 

^Eakus — First, here is Pythagoras. 

Menippus — How are you, Euphorbus, or Apollo, 
or whatever you wish to be called? 

Pythagoras — And you, too, Menippus, how are 
you? 

Menippus — Is your thigh no longer gold? 

Pythagoras — Why, no; but come, let me see if 
your wallet has anything to eat in it. 

Menippus — Beans, my good friend, consequently 
you ought not eat them. 

Pythagoras — Just give me one; there are dif- 
ferent doctrines among the dead. I have learned 
that beans and the heads of one’s parents are by no 
means the same here. 

^Eakus — T his is Solon, the son of Exekestides; 
and there is Thales; and near them is Pittakus and 
the others. They are seven* in all, as you see. 

Menippus — These alone, ^Eakus, are without 
grief and beaming with joy. That man covered 
with ashes, like bread baked in hot ashes, the one 
covered with blisters, who is he? 


♦The seven wise men. 


MENIPPUS AND J)AKUS. 


55 


^Eakus — T hat is Empedokles, Menippus, half- 
baked from being in Mount ^Etna. 

Menippus — My good fellow of the brazen foot, 
what put it into your head to leap into the crater? 

Empedokles — A sort of melancholy, Menippus. 

Menippus — Not at all, but vain glory, conceit 
and a good portion of stupidity, these burned you 
to a coal, slippers and all, and deservedly, too. The 
trick did not help you any, for it came to light that 
you died.* Where in the world is Sokrates, yEakus? 

^Eakus — Over there, talking a lot of nonsense 
with Nestor and Palamedes. 

Menippus — I would like to see him, if he is here 
anywhere. 

iEAKUs — Do you see the bald-headed man? 

Menippus — They are all bald. That would be 
a mark of all of them. 

^Eakus — I mean the snub-nosed man. 

Menippus — That would be the same, they are all 
snub-nosed. 

Sokrates — Are you looking for me, Menippus? 

Menippus — That I am, Sokrates. 

Sokrates — What is the news in Athens? 

Menippus — Many of the youths claim to be 
studying philosophy, and if you should see their airs 
simply and their walk, you would say they were 
lofty philosophers. 

Sokrates — I have seen many of them. 

Menippus — You saw, I think, what Aristippus 
was, who came to you, and Plato himself ; the for- 

*As there was no witness of his death, Empedokles thought he 
would be considered immortal. 


56 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

mer smelling of myrrh,* the latter learning thor- 
oughly how to court the tyrants in Sicily. 

Sokrates — What do people think of me ? 

Menippus — You are a happy man in such mat- 
ters, Sokrates. At least they all think you were a 
wonderful man, and knew everything, and that, too 
— the truth must be told — when you knew nothing. 

Sokrates — I told them that myself, but they 
thought it was irony. 

Menippus — Who are those around you? 

Sokrates — Charmides, Phsedrus and Alkibi- 
ades. 

Menippus — It is a good thing, Sokrates, that 
even here you follow your art and do not make 
light of the beautiful. 

Sokrates — Why, what else could I do ? But 
sit down by us, please. 

Menippus — No, I am going over here by Krce- 
sus and Sardanapallus. I think I shall laugh not 
a little as I hear them bewailing. 

^Eakus — I, too, shall go at once, lest some of 
the dead may escape us. Y ou shall see the rest 
hereafter, Menippus. 

Menippus — Go away ; this is enough, ^Eakus. 


■‘•He made pleasure the chief aim. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


characters: 

TIMON, JUPITER, HERMES, PENIA (POVERTY), 
PLUTUS (wealth), gnathonides, philiades, 

DEMEAS, THRASYKLES. 













. 





















4 

















































T IMON — O Jupiter, patron of friendship, of hos- 
pitality, of companionship, defender of the 
hearth, lightner, oath protector, cloud gatherer, loud 
roarer and whatever else the thunderstruck poets 
call thee — especially when they are in want of 
words for their metre (for thou, with thy many 
names, dost prop up the falling measure and fill the 
gap in the rythm) — where now is the flashing of 
thy lightning, thy deep roaring cannonade and 
thy blazing, gleaming, fearful thunderbolt? All 
these appear now but nonsense and simply po- 
etic smoke apart from the noise of their names. 
Thy famous, far-darting and ready weapon of 
flame is thoroughly quenched, I don’t know in 
what way, and is cold, preserving not even a 
little spark of wrath against the evil doers. At 
least any one who wants to commit perjury 
would be afraid of a stale wick sooner than he 
would of the flame of your all-conquering thun- 
derbolt. You seem to threaten them with a sort of 
fire-brand in such a way that they are not afraid of 
the fire nor the smoke from it, but think that they 
will receive only this from the wound, namely, that 
they will be covered with soot. So that on this ac- 
count Salmoneus has already dared to imitate your 
thunder — and the story is credible — boasting that 
in comparison with Jupiter, who is cold in his an- 
ger, he is fiery. Why shouldn’t he? You sleep, as 
( 59 ) 


60 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

if under the influence of mandrake. Y ou pay no 
attention to the perjurers. You have no con- 
trol over the wrong-doers. You are blear-eyed 
and short-sighted toward what is going on. Y our 
ears are dull of hearing like persons worn out with 
age. While you were young and sharp-spirited and 
at the acme of keenness, you did much to punish 
the unjust and the violent and never made a truce 
with them, but your thunderbolt was on all occa- 
sions at work. Your ^Egis was brandished over 
them, your thunder was rolling and your lightning 
playing incessantly around them as darts in a bat- 
tle. Your earthquakes were shaking like sieves, 
your snow was piled in heaps, your hail like peb- 
bles, and, to speak to you in a tragic way, furious 
and violent were your rainstorms, every drop a 
river. In a moment of time so great a ship- 
wreck occurred in the time of Deukalion, that 
all were submerged in the deep. Scarcely one 
chest was saved running ashore at Lukoreus, pre- 
serving for generations of great wickedness a cer- 
tain life spark of the human race. And so it hap- 
pens that you receive from mankind the wages that 
are consistent with their easy living. No one sac- 
rifices to you nor crowns you, unless some one does 
it as a mere side issue of the Olympic games, and he 
thinks he is doing what is not very necessary but 
carries it out in accordance with some ancient cus- 
tom. After little, O most lofty of the gods, they 
will call you Kronos* and thrust you from your 
position of honor. I omit saying how many times 


♦Robbed of the throne of Heaven by Jupiter. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


6l 


already they have pillaged your temple. Some 
have laid hands on your own person at Olympia,* 
and you, the high thunderer, hesitated either to 
arouse the dogs or call the neighbors that they 
might run and seize the plunderers while still pre- 
paring for flight. . Y ou, the noble one, the giant 
destroyer, the Titan ruler, sat there and had your 
locks cut off by them when you had a thunderbolt 
ten cubits long in your right hand. O marvelous 
one, when will the open neglect of these things 
cease? When will you chastise such injustice? 
How many Phaethonsf or Deukalions will suffice 
for such overcharged insolence of the world? To 
leave public concerns and mention my own mat- 
ters : after I have raised so many Athenians to a 
lofty position and made them rich, whereas they 
were poor, and have aided all the needy, nay, have 
poured out my wealth in heaps for the benefit of my 
friends, having thus impoverished myself, I am no 
longer even recognized by them. Nor do they who 
for the time crouched before me and fawned upon 
me, and who have hung upon my nod, even look at me. 
If I meet any of them on the street, they pass me by, 
just as they would some monument of a person 
long ago dead lying on its back overturned by time, 
not even reading the inscription. Some, when they 
descry me even from afar, turn into another street 
thinking that they will see an unpleasant and de- 
spised sight, the man who not long before was their 
savior and benefactor. So that by reason of my 

♦Referring to Phidias’ statue of Jupiter. 

tWhiie driving the sun -chariot nearly burned up the world. 


62 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


misfortunes, I turned to this solitary place, clothed 
myself in a leather jerkin and am tilling the soil as 
a hireling for four obols a day, studying philosophy 
besides in my loneliness and with my pickax. 
Here, however, I think I shall gain this advantage, 
I shall no longer see many prospering contrary to 
their worth. This would be very obnoxious. Now 
at once, O son of Kronos and Rhea, shake off this 
deep, sweet sleep. You have slept longer than 
Epimenides.* Light thy thunderbolt or kindle it 
from ./Etna and make the flame mighty; show some 
of the wrath of a manly and spirited Jupiter, unless 
the stories told by the Kretans about you and your 
burial among them are true. 

Jupiter — Who is that man, Hermes, crying out 
from Attika at the foot of Mount Hymettus, that 
squalid, unwashed fellow in a leather jacket? 
He is bending over and digging, I think. He is 
a bold chatterer. Of course he is a philsopher, 
otherwise he would not utter against us words 
which are so impious. 

Hermes— What do you say, O father? Don’tj’-ou 
know Timon, the son of Echekrates of Kollytus? 
That is the man who often feasted us with perfect 
sacrifices, who was lately rich, the man with the 
whole hecatombs, with whom we were accustomed 
to celebrate the Diasiaf so brilliantly. 

Jupiter — Alas, what a change ! That noble, 
that rich man around whom were so many friends? 
What calamity has he met with that makes him act 

*A priest of Jupiter in Krete who slept fifty years. 

t A great festival at Athens in honor of Jupiter. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 63 

so? He is unwashed, wretched, a digger and a hire- 
ling evidently, and carries so heavy a pick. 

Hermes — We might say his kindness and his 
love of humanity and his pity for all who were 
needy ruined him, but, to speak the truth, folly and 
stupidity and lack of good judgment concerning his 
friends did it. He did not perceive that he was 
doing kindnesses to crows and wolves; but the 
wretched man having his liver gnawed by such vul- 
tures thought they were friends and companions 
who ate at his board through kindness to him. 
They have stripped his bones and eaten them off 
clean. Whatever of marrow was in them, they 
have squeezed out very carefully. They have gone 
away leaving him withered and cut up by the roots, 
not even recognizing nor looking at him any more. 
Why should they? They neither aid nor give him 
anything on their part. Therefore with pick and 
leather jacket, as you see, he left the city for shame. 
He is cultivating the soil at daily wages. He is brood- 
ing over his misfortunes because those who are rich 
at his expense pass him by in utter contempt, not 
even knowing whether his name is Timon. 

Jupiter — And yet the man must not be over- 
looked nor neglected — naturally he is troubled at 
his bad luck; — otherwise we shall be doing the same 
thing as those accursed flatterers, if we forget a 
man who burned for us on the altars so many fat 
thighs of bulls and goats. I am sure I still have 
the flavor of them in my nostrils. But from my 
want of leisure and on account of the great tumult of 
the perjurers, law-breakers and plunderers, and 
also by reason of the fear caused by those who pil- 


64 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

lage the temples, for they are numerous and hard 
to guard against, and don’t even allow us to doze 
for a little while, I have not even looked toward At- 
tika for a long time, especially since philosophy 
and word combats are prevalent among them. 
While they are fighting with each other and bawl- 
ing out, it is not possible even to listen to prayers. 
I am compelled, therefore, to sit here with my ears 
stopped up or be bored to death by them as they 
talk with loud voices about a certain kind of virtue, 
incorporeal substances and nonsense. On this ac- 
count, you understand, this Timon, though not a bad 
man, happened to be neglected by us. Neverthe- 
less, Hermes, take Plutus with you and go to him 
quickly. Let Plutus take Treasure also with him 
and let them both remain with Timon and not be 
put off so easily, even if he hereafter try very earn- 
estly to drive them out of his house. As to those 
flatterers and the uncharitableness which they man- 
ifested toward him I shall deliberate later on. The}' 
shall pay the penalty when I shall have prepared 
my thunderbolt. For two of its rays, the largest 
ones, too, have been broken and blunted. A while 
ago I hurled it a little too eagerly at the sophist 
Anaxagoras who was trying to persuade his asso- 
ciates that we gods were not anything at all ; but I 
missed him — for Perikles held his hand to protect 
him. The bolt fell into the temple Anakeum and 
burned it up, and was itself almost broken to pieces 
on the rock. For the present, this will be a suffi- 
cient punishment for them, if they see Timon very 
wealthy. 

Hermes — What a fine thing it was to cry out 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


65 


loud and be importunate and impudent ! It is prof- 
itable to do this, not only for advocates, but also 
for those who pray. Just look at Timon, who will 
soon be rich instead of very poor, because he bawled 
out and turned to Jupiter boldly in his prayer. If 
he, bending to the task, had kept on in silence he 
would still be digging in neglect. 

Plutus* — But I would not like to go to him, Ju- 
piter. 

Jupiter — Why not, my good Plutus, and that, 
too, when I have given you the order ? 

Plutus — Because, by Jupiter, he was insolent to- 
ward me, thrust me out, and divided me into many 
parts, and that, when I was his father’s friend. He 
all but threw me out of his house with pitchforks, 
just as one might throw a hot coal out of his 
hand. Shall I go then again and be given over to 
parasites and flatterers and mistresses ? Send me, 
Jupiter, to those who will appreciate the gift, who 
will pay some heed to me; to whom I am precious, 
by whom I am sought. Let these cormorants abide 
with Poverty whom they prefer to us. Let the 
wretches take a leather jacket and pickax from her 
and be content with getting four obols a day, they 
who thoughtlessly disregard gifts worth ten talents. 

Jupiter — Timon will not treat you so again. 
The pickax has been a good instructor — unless he 
is altogether without pain in his back — so that he 
ought to choose you in preference to poverty. But 
you seem to me to be very querulous. Y ou now 

•The god of wealth. 

5 


66 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


find fault with Timon because he opened the doors 
and let you out to roam around at your own will, 
neither shutting you up nor guarding you jealously. 
At other times, on the contrary, you were grieved 
at the rich, saying that you had been put under lock 
and key by them, by means of bars and bolts and 
seals, so that you could not even stoop down and 
get a peep at the light. At least, that is the com- 
plaint you made to me, adding that you were choked 
in the deep darkness. On this account you ap- 
peared to us pale and full of anxiety, drawing your 
fingers together in accordance with the custom of 
counting ; threatening to run away from us if you 
could get an opportunity. In short, the matter 
seemed to promise that you would be shut up, 
like the maiden Danae, in a brazen or steel cham- 
ber and be reared by strict and wholly bad 
teachers, Usury and Arithmetic. At any rate, you 
said they acted strangely, loving you to excess, and 
though it was possible to enjoy you, they did not 
have the courage to do it. Nor did they even use 
the object of their love in peace, though masters of 
it, but they staid awake to guard it, keeping their 
eyes on the seal and bolt without blinking. They 
considered as a sufficient enjoyment, not the fact 
that they had it to enjoy, but the fact that they did 
dot not share the pleasure with anybody, just like 
the dog in the manger, which neither ate the barley 
himself nor allowed the horse to eat, though he w*fs 
hungry. Besides, you even ridiculed them for spay- 
ing and guarding their money, and, what is very 
6trange, for being jealous of themselves and igno- 
rant of the fact that some accursed domestic or 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 67 

steward would sneak in and have a drunken revel, 
leaving his wretched and unlovable master brood- 
ing over his interest by the light of some dim little- 
mouthed lamplet and thirsty wicklet. How, then, 
is this not wrong, long ago to make these charges 
against them, but now to accuse Timon of the op- 
posite? 

Plutus — If you examine the matter truly, I shall 
appear to do both these things in a praiseworthy 
way. For this gross neglect and carelessness of 
Timon’s would seem naturally unkind, at least, to- 
ward me. They who guard me and lock me up in 
darkness, who care for me in order that I may become 
large and fat and bulky, who neither touch me 
themselves nor bring me to the light that I may not 
even be seen by any one, these I consider insolent 
fools, because they allow me to rust away under 
such bonds when I have done no wrong, and because 
they do not know that after little they will go 
away and leave me to some happy person. I 
praise, then, neither them nor these who, like Ti- 
mon, treat me in an off-hand way, but I do praise 
those who will use some moderation — which is 
best, too — and who will neither refrain altogether 
nor squander me entirely. For consider, O Jupi- 
ter, by Jupiter, if any one should marry, according 
to law, a young and beautiful woman, then should 
neither guard her nor be jealous of her at all, and 
dismissing her would be willing for those, who 
wished, to come by night and by day and associate 
with her; nay, rather if he himself should open the 
door and lead her out and call everybody to her, 
would such a man appear to love her? You, at 


68 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


least, O Jupiter, would not say so, having yourself 
often been in love. But if, on the contrary, any one 
should by law take into his house a free woman in the 
hope of begetting heirs, and if he should neither 
himself touch the fair and beautiful creature, nor 
allow another to look at her, but shut her up child- 
less and barren and treat her as a maiden, and that, 
too, when he says he loves her, and when it is plain 
from his complexion and from his withered flesh 
and sunken eyes that he does, is it credible that 
such a one is not out of his wits? How could he al- 
low such a fair and lovely maiden to waste away, 
by bringing her up during her whole life like a ves- 
tal virgin, though it were necessary for him to beget 
children and enjoy his married life? This is what 
I am grieved at : I am dishonorably cuffed about, 
devoured and squandered by some, but kept in 
chains like a branded runaway by others. 

Jupiter — Why are you vexed at them? They 
will both pay a handsome penalty; the one, like 
Tantalus, thirsty, hungry, mouths parched, gaping 
only for gold ; the other, like Phineus, their food 
snatched away from their very mouths by the Har- 
pies. So go at once to meet with Timon who is 
now wiser by far. 

Plutus — Will he ever stop pouring me out with 
all his might, as it were out of a basket full of holes, 
before I have entirely flowed in, wishing to antici- 
pate the flow, lest I may roll in on him in torrents and 
overwhelm him? As a result, I think that I shall 
pour water into the cask of the Danaids* and do it 

*The daughters of Danaus, who killed their husbands and were 
condemned to pour, water into sieves. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 69 

in vain, the cask not holding it, but the stream al- 
most running out before it flows in, so very wide is 
the opening of the pitcher for the outpour and so 
unchecked the exit. 

Jupiter — If, then, he will not stop up this gap 
and fissure at once, you will shortly run out and he 
will easily find his leather jacket and his pick again 
in the dregs of the cask. Go at once and make him 
rich. Remember, Hermes, as you come back to us, 
to bring the Cyclopes from Mount H£tna, that they 
may sharpen and get ready my thunderbolt, for we 
shall need it right away, and sharp, too. 

Hermes — Let us go, Plutus. What does this 
mean? Are you limping a little? It had escaped 
my notice, my good friend, that you were lame as 
well as blind. 

Plutus — It is not always this way, Hermes ; 
but whenever I am sent to anyone by Jupiter, some- 
how or other I am slow and lame in both feet, so 
that with difficulty I reach the goal. Sometimes 
the man waiting for me grows old before I reach 
him. But whenever it is necessary for me to go 
away from anyone you shall see that I have wings 
— that I am much swifter than dreams. At any 
rate, as soon as the starting rope falls, I am at once 
declared victor, fairly leaping over the race-course, 
the spectators sometimes not even getting sight of 
me. 

Hermes— You do not speak the truth. I, at 
least, could mention many who yesterday did not 
have even an obol to buy a noose to hang them- 
selves with, but who to-day, rich and dressed in 
costly robes, drive a span of white horses, though 


7o 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


before they did not have even an ass. Neverthe- 
less, they go around with purple robes on their 
shoulders and gold rings on their fingers, not be- 
lieving, methinks, that they are not rich in a dream. 

Plutus — That is quite another thing, Hermes. 
In cases of that kind I do not go with my own feet, 
nor does Jupiter send me, but Pluto sends me, since 
he himself is the giver of wealth and fine gifts ; he 
shows that by his name. Whenever it is necessary 
for me to change my abode from one to another, 
they put me into a tablet, seal me up carefully, take 
me with a rush and transport me. The dead body 
of my former master, covered above the knees by 
an old piece of linen and fought over by the cats, 
lies in state in some dark corner of the house. But 
the expectant heirs wait for me in the public mar- 
ket, gaping just like twittering nestlings for the 
mother swallow as she approaches. The seal is re- 
moved, the linen cord cut, the tablet opened and my 
new master proclaimed. He is either some relative 
or flatterer or lusty servant honored for his favors, 
with his chin still smoothly shaven. He, vain fel- 
low, having received great pay in return for mani- 
fold and various pleasures with which he, though 
beyond his bloom, served my master, he, whoever 
he may be, snatches me, tablet and all, and running 
off in a hurry has his name changed from Pyrrhius 
or Dromon or Tibias to Megakles or Megabyzus or 
Protarchus. He leaves those, who gaped in vain, star- 
ing at each other, suffering real sorrow because 
such a thunny fish escaped from the corner of 
the net after swallowing no little bait. He falls 
with all his might upon me, vulgar and coarse 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


71 


that he is, and though he still shudders at the 
clanking of fetters and pricks up his ears if a pass- 
er-by cracks his whip and pays reverence to the 
mill as if it were a temple, yet he is no longer civil 
to those who meet him. He insults freemen and 
whips those who were his fellow-slaves, trying to 
find out if such things are possible for him. He 
does this until he falls into some strumpet’s net, or 
sets his heart upon fine horses, or gives himself up 
to flatterers, who swear that he is really handsomer 
than Nireus, of more noble birth than Kekrops* or 
Kodrus,* shrewder than Odysseus, richer than six- 
teen Kroesuses put together, until he, the wretch, 
spends in short order the treasures which have been 
collected, little by little, from perjuries, robberies, 
and all sorts of crime. 

Hermes — That is about the truth you are saying, 
I think. When you go on your own feet how do 
j'ou find the way, blind as you are? Or how do you 
distinguish those to whom Jupiter sends you and 
judge them worthy of becoming rich? 

Plutus — Why, do you think I find who they 
are? By Jupiter, not at all. If I did I would not 
leave Aristeidesf and go to HipponikusJ and Kal- 
liasi and many other Athenians not even worth an 
obol. 

Hermes — Well, what do you do when you are 
sent down to men? 

Plutus — I go up and down in my wanderings 

•Ancient kings of Athens. 

f The “ Just ” 

\ Wealthy Athenians. 


72 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


until I fall in with some one unexpectedly. He who 
meets me first takes me away and keeps me, paying 
reverence to you, Hermes, for this unexpected gain. 

Hermes — Has Jupiter been deceived, then, in 
thinking that you, according to his decision, enrich 
those whom he thinks worth}" of becoming rich? 

Plutus — Yes, and justly, too, my good sir, be- 
cause though he knows I am blind, he sent me to look 
up a thing so hard to find — a thing which disap- 
peared from the world a long time ago, which not 
even Lynkeus* could easily find, since it is so obscure 
and insignificant. Accordingly, inasmuch as the 
good are scarce and base men in large numbers hold 
everything in cities, it is easier for me to roam about 
and fall in with such persons and be caught in their 
net. 

Hermes — How, then, when you leave them, do 
you escape easily since you don’t know the road? 

Plutus — In that case, I become, by some chance, 
keen of vision and firm of foot for the occasion of 
my flight only. 

Hermes — Answer me this, also: How do you, 
blind as you are — if it must be said — and besides 
that, pale and heavy in your limbs, how do you 
have so many lovers? How is it that all persons 
look toward you, and, falling in with you, think 
that they are happy, but, failing to meet you, think 
they can not endure life ? At any rate, I know 
that many were so deeply in love with you that they 
with a rush hurled themselves into the deep sea and 
down from precipitous cliffs, thinking that they 

* One of the Argonauts well known for his keen vision. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


73 


were neglected by you because, forsooth, you did 
not look at them at all. But you, I am sure, would 
agree, if you understand yourself at all, that they 
act like Korybantes,* mad after such an object of 
love. 

Plutus — Why, do you think that I appear to 
them such as I am, lame or blind or whatever else 
I may be? 

Hermes — Why not, Plutus, unless they them- 
selves are all blind? 

Plutus — Not blind, my dear sir, but ignorance 
and deceit, which now possess the whole world, 
throw shadows over them. Besides, I myself, in 
order that I may not appear altogether ugly, put on 
the most lovely sort of a mask, gold throughout, 
and set with precious stones. I put on garments 
of many colors, too, and so meet them. They, 
thinking they see beauty in its very person, fall in 
love with me and are undone if they do not find me. 

For if anyone had stripped me entirely and shown 
me to them, plainly they would accuse themselves 
of being short-sighted in such great matters and of 
loving unlovable and ugly things. 

Hermes — How is it, then, that when they come 
into the possession of wealth and themselves put 
on the mask, they are still deceived, and if any 
one take it away from them, would more quickly 
give up their heads than their masks? Surely, 
it is not likely that they, seeing everything from 
within, are ignorant that the fine appearance is'>* ,w ‘ 
smeared on. 

* Priests of Kybele, who celebrate their rites in a frenzied man- 
ner. 


74 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Plutus — Not a few things, O Hermes, assist me 
in this. 

Hermes — What are they? 

Plutus — Whenever any one for the first time 
meets me, opens the door and takes me in, there go 
in along with me secretly, conceit, folly, pomposity, 
effeminacy, insolence, deceit, and countless other 
things. Now the man seized in spirit by all these, 
admires what is not admirable, reaches out for 
what ought to be avoided, and gazes in wonder 
at me, the father of all those evils which have 
come in, surrounded by them as by a body-guard. 
He would suffer everything rather than endure the 
thought of giving me up. 

Hermes — How sly you are and how sleek, O 
Plutus, hard to hold and how easily you get away. 
Y ou furnish no secure handle, but as eels or serpents 
you slip through the fingers, I don’t know how. 
Poverty, on the other hand, is sticky and easy to 
keep hold of. She has a myriad hooks springing out 
from her entire body, so that persons coming near 
are forthwith held and can not get loose easily. 
But in the midst of our nonsense a matter of no 
little importance has escaped our notice. 

Plutus — What is it ? 

Hermes — We did not bring Treasure along, of 
whom there was especial need. • 

Plutus — Calm your fears on that point. I al- 
ways leave him on earth when I go up to you, 
giving him orders to lock the door and stay inside 
and not to open to anybody, unless he hears me cry 
out. 

Hermes — Let us go, then, at once to Attika. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 75 

Follow me, holding on to my mantle, until I come 
to this solitude. 

Plutus — You do well, Hermes, to lead me by 
the hand, for if you leave me I shall roam about 
and fall in quickly with Hyberbolus* and Kleon.* 
But what’s that noise, as it were-, of steel against 
stone? 

Hermes — Timon here, near by, digging on a hilly 
and stony little farm. Aha, Poverty is with him \ 
and Toil and Strength and Wisdom and Manliness, : 
and a great crowd of those who serve under the ban- 
ner of Hunger, far braver than your body-guards. 

Plutus — Why, then, don’t we go away from 
here as quickly as possible, Hermes? We can not 
do any thing worthy of mention to a man surrounded 
by such a great army. 

Hermes — Jupiter thought otherwise. Let us not 
be cowards, then. 

Poverty — Whither are you leading that man by 
the hand, O Argiphontes? 

Hermes — We were sent by Jupiter to Timon 
here. 

Poverty — Does Wealth now come to Timon 
after I have taken charge of him when badly treated 
by Effeminacy, after I have given him over to 
Wisdom and Toil here and made him a noble and 
worthy man? Do I, Poverty, seem to you then so 
despicable and so easily wronged that you deprive 
me of my only possession after it has been carefully 
perfected in virtue, in order that Wealth, taking 
him again and putting him into the hands of Inso- 


*Athenian demagogues, one a lamp dealer, the other a tanner. 


76 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


lence and Conceit, may make him voluptuous and 
ignoble and foolish, and then give him back to me 
after he has been torn to tatters? 

Hermes — This was Jupiter’s decision, Poverty. 

Poverty — I’ll leave, then, and you, Toil and 
Wisdom and the others, follow me. He shall quick- 
ly know what he will lose in me, a good co-worker 
and teacher of what is best, by associating with 
whom he continued sound in body and strong in 
spirit. With me he lived the life of a man. He de- 
pended upon himself and thought these many ex- 
cesses belonged to others, as they do. 

Hermes — They’re gone. Let’s go up to him. 

Timon — Who are you, accursed ones? What do 
you want that you come here to disturb a toiler 
and wage-worker? You shall not go away with 
impunity, abominable that you all are, for I shall at 
once hit you with clods and stones and crush you. 

Hermes — Don’t hit us, Timon. It is not men 
whom you will hit. I am Hermes and this is 
Wealth. Jupiter sent us when he heard your pray- 
ers. So, in God’s name, take happiness and leave 
your labors. 

Timon — You shall groan for this presently, al- 
though you are gods, as you say. For I hate all 
alike, men and gods, and as for this blind fellow, 
whoever he may be, I think I shall just crush him 
with mj'- pickax. 

Plutus — Let’s get away, Hermes, bj r Jupiter. 
The man seems to me to be melancholy in a high 
degree. I am afraid I may receive some injury be- 
fore I go. 

Hermes — Don’t do anything foolish, Timon. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


77 


* Lay aside this extreme wildness and rudeness. 
Reach out your hands and take the good fortune. 
Get wealthy again and be the first of the Athen- 
ians. Overlook those uncharitable men and live 
only for yourself. 

Timon — I don’t want anything to do with you. 
Don’t trouble me. My pick is sufficient wealth for 
me. In other respects I am most happy, if no one 
comes near me. 

Hermes — M y dear sir, are you so cut loose from 
men? 

“Is this, then, 

The message, stern and haughty, which to Jove 
Thou bidd’st me bear?” 

I am sure it is fitting for you to be a hater of men 
when you have suffered so many evils at their hands, 
but by no means a hater of the gods when the 
gods care for you so much. 

Timon — Well, Hermes, I am very grateful to you 
and Jupiter for your care, but as for this Plutus I 
would not have him. 

Hermes — Why, forsooth? 

Timon — Because long ago he was the cause of 
boundless woe to me; he gave me over to flatterers; 
he exposed me to schemers; he stirred up hatred 
against me; he corrupted me with luxury; he made 
me an object of envy and finally, of a sudden, he 
abandoned me faithlessly and traitorously. But 
the most excellent creature, Poverty, disciplined me 
with toils most manly and made me associate with 
truth and frankness. She furnished me the needs 
of life by labor and taught me to despise those nu- 


78 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


merous excesses by making my hopes of life depend 
upon myself and showing what my wealth was, 
which neither a fawning flatterer nor a crying syco- 
phant nor the excited populace nor a voting assem- 
bly-man nor a scheming tyrant can take away from 
me. Strengthened therefore by toils, I cultivate 
fondly this field. I see none of the evils in the city. 
I have a sufficient and satisfactory means of living 
from my pick. So, Hermes, take Plutus and go 
back to Jupiter. This were sufficient for me, to 
make all men, from youth up, groan. 

Hermes — Don’t, my good sir. Not all men are 
adapted to groaning. But leave these petty, child- 
ish things and receive Plutus. I assure you the 
gifts of Jupiter are not to be rejected. 

Plutus — Do you wish, Timon, that I shall make 
my defense to you? Or are you angry at my speak- 
ing ? 

Timon — Speak, but not long, nor with preface, as 
the hackneyed orators. I shall endure a few words 
from j r ou for the sake of Hermes here. 

Plutus — It were necessary for me, perhaps, to 
make a long speech after so many accusations 
against me. Nevertheless, see if, as you saj r , I 
have injured you, I, who was the cause of all the 
delicacies you had — of honor, of the front seat 
at the theater, of crowns, and of other luxuries. 
Through me you were the object of the popular 
gaze ; you were celebrated in song and eagerly 
sought for on all sides. But if you have suffered 
any hardship at the hands of the flatterers, I am not 
to blame. Nay rather, I myself have been injured 
by you, in that you so dishonorably subjected me 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


79 


to accursed men who praised and wheedled me and 
in every way plotted against me. At the last, you 
said that I had betrayed you. On the contrary, I 
could myself bring charges against you, that I was 
driven out by j r ou and pitched out of your house 
headlong. Accordingly, instead of a soft cloak, 
Poverty, most precious to you, has clothed you in 
this leather jacket. So, Hermes here is a witness 
how I besought Jupiter not to have me come to you 
again after you had acted so spitefully toward me. 

Hermes — You see now, Plutus, what sort of a 
man he has become. So take courage and stay 
with him. You, Timon, dig on as you are, and 
bring Treasure by means of the pick, for he will 
hear you when you cry to him. 

Timon — I must obey and become rich again^ 
Hermes. What can a man do when the gods force 
him? But just look into what troubles you are 
putting me, wretched man that I am. Up to the 
present time I have lived most happily, and now 
shall suddenly have so much gold and so many 
anxious cares, though I have done no wrong. 

Hermes — Endure it for my sake, Timon, even if 
it is hard and unbearable, in order that those flatter- 
ers may fairly burst with envy. I shall fly back to 
Heaven by way of Mount ./Etna. 

Plutus — He’s gone, it seems. I judge so by the 
rustle of his wings. Do you remain here. I shall 
go and send Treasure back to you, or rather you 
keep on digging. You, I say, gold Treasure, listen 
to Timon here, and allow yourself to be dug up. 
Dig on, Timon, strike deep blows. I shall go away 
from you. 


8o 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Timon — Come now, pick, strengthen yourself for 
me and do not become weary in summoning Treas- 
ure out of the depth into the light. O Jupiter, dis- 
player of wonders, and ye friendly Korybantes, and 
Hermes, god of gain, whence so much gold? Sure- 
ly this is a dream. At least, I am afraid I shall 
awake and find it coals. But really it is gold, 
stamped, red, heavy, and most sweet to look upon. 

“O gold, most delightful gift to mortal men.” 

Thou dost appear like blazing fire by night and 
by day. Come, dearest and most lovely. Now I 
believe, forsooth, that Jupiter turned into gold once. 
What maiden would not have received with open 
arms so handsome a lover coming down through 
the roof?* O Midasf and Krcesus, and ye offerings 
at Delphi, you were as nothing compared with Timon 
and Timon’s wealth, to whom not even the King of 
Persia is equal. O my pick and dearest leather jacket, 
you I shall rightly consecrate to Pan here. I shall at 
once buy all this desert place, build a little tower 
over the Treasure sufficient for me to live here alone, 
and when I die I think I shall have the same tower 
as my tomb. Be it resolved once for all, and be it 
enacted for the balance of my life: Non-intercourse 
with, ignorance of, and arrogance toward, all men. 
Friend or guest or companion or altar of mercy 
are sheer nonsense. To have tears of pity or to 
help a man in need are a violation of law and a 
breach of manners. Solitary my life shall be, like 

•Jupiter wooed Danae In a shower of gold. 

tAll that Midas touched turned into gold. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


8l 


the wolves. One friend only shall there be, Timon. 
All the others are enemies and schemers ; to asso- 
ciate with any of them is defilement. If I merely 
get sight of any one, that day is unlucky. In short, 
men shall be to me no different from stone or brazen 
statues. We shall neither receive a herald nor 
make a treaty with them. The desert shall be their 
limit. Let “fellow-tribesmen” and “clansmen” and 
“fellow-citizens” and “fatherland” itself be but cold 
and useless names, objects of ambition with foolish 
men. Timon alone shall be rich, despise everybody 
and live in luxury apart from flattery and burden- 
some encomiums. He shall sacrifice to the gods 
and feast by himself, a neighbor to himself, aloof 
from others. Be it decreed once for all that he 
give himself the hand of farewell when he dies, and 
place the wreath upon his own tomb. Misan- 
thrope shall be his most sweet name. The tokens 
of his character shall be peevishness, harshness, 
rudeness, anger and inhumanity. If I see any one 
perishing in fire and beseeching me to quench the 
fire, I shall quench it with pitch and oil. If in win- 
ter time the river torrent carries any one to destruc- 
tion, and if he reaches out his hands and begs me to 
take hold of him, I shall thrust him away, too, and 
push him headlong under the water, that he may 
not be able to come up again. In this way will 
they receive their due. Timon, the son of Echek- 
rates of Kollytus, moved the resolution. The same 
Timon put it to a vote in the assembly. Well and 
good, let this be our decision, and let us abide by it 
manfullj'. But I would give a vast amount if it 
6 


82 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


could somehow or other be known to all people that 
I am exceedingly rich. It would be as good as 
hanging for them. What’s this? O, with what 
speed they come! They are running from all sides, 
covered with dust and puffing for breath. I don’t 
know how they have smelled the gold. Shall I 
go upon this hill and drive them away with stones? 
Shall I throw at them from a high position, or shall 
I to this degree violate the law, that once for all I 
associate with them in order that they may suffer 
the more when they are slighted? This is better, 
I think. So let us endure it for awhile and re- 
ceive them. Oho! Let me see, who is this first one 
of them? Gnathonides, the flatterer; the man who 
a little while ago, when I asked him for a favor, 
handed me a slipnoose; a man who has often drunk 
whole pitchers of wine at my house. Well, it is a 
good thing he came first; he will groan before the 
others. 

Gnathonides — Didn’t I tell j r ou that the gods 
would not neglect Timon, the good? Hail, Timon, 
most fair of form, most delightful man, best of boon 
companions! 

Timon — By Jupiter, the same to you, Gnathon- 
ides, most gluttonous of all vultures, most knavish 
of all men! 

Gnathonides — You always were fond of jok- 
ing, but where is the drinking party? I have brought 
you a brand new ode of the lately presented dithy- 
rambs. 

Timon — Y ou’ll sing an elegy, pathetically, too, 
to the tune of this pick. 

Gnathonides — What does this mean? You hit 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


83 


me, Timon? I shall call witnesses. O Herakles ! 
Oh, oh ! I shall summon you to the court of Mars 
Hill for this wound. 

Timon — And if you will just be a little slow, I 
shall be quickly summoned for murder. 

Gnathonides — Don’t do it, but heal the wound 
by sprinkling on a little gold. Gold is a great medi- 
cine to stop the flow of blood. 

Timon — What, are you still here? 

Gnathonides — I’m going. You will not get 
any pleasure in being so harsh instead of kind to me. 

Timon — Who is this coming, this bald-headed 
man? It is Philiades (Mr. Friendly), the most 
detestable of all the flatterers. This man received 
from me an entire field and two talents, as a dowry 
for his daughter. This was pay for his praise, when 
he alone, though all the others were silent, exalted 
to the skies my singing. He swore that I was 
more musical than the swans. When he lately saw 
me sick and when I visited him to ask for aid, the 
fine fellow presented me with blows. 

Philiades — O what shamelessness ! Do you 
now recognize Timon? Is Gnathonides now a friend 
and boon companion? I am sure he has received 
his dues, ungrateful man that he is. But we, your 
old-time companions, boyhood chums and fellow- 
citizens, we act with moderation in order that we 
may not seem to trample upon you. Hail, master ! 
See to it that you be on j r our guard against these 
accursed parasites who are mere table friends, but 
in other respects no different from vultures. No 
man of the present day is to be trusted. All are un- 
grateful and base. I, however, while bringing you 


8 4 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


a talent to use for pressing necessities, on the way 
here heard that you had gained untold wealth. I 
have come, therefore, to give you some advice about 
your money. You, however, who are so wise, will 
perhaps not need any suggestions from me, for you 
could tell what is best even to Nestor. 

Timon — That will do, Philiades. But come up 
nearer, and I’ll fondle you with this pickax. 

Philiades — Oh, men! My cranium is broken by 
the ungrateful wretch because I was giving him 
the proper advice. 

Timon — Here comes the third one, the orator, 
Demeas, with a resolution in his right hand and 
claiming to be my relative. This man paid to the 
city out of my purse on one day sixteen talents. He 
had been convicted and imprisoned because he 
could not pay. I pitied him and ransomed him. 
When, the other day, it was his lot to distribute 
the theoric* fund to the tribe Erechtheis and when 
I went to him and asked for my portion he refused 
to recognize me as a citizen. 

Demeas — Hail, Timon, the great benefactor of 
the race, the pillar of the Athenians, the protector 
of Greece! I assure you the assembled people and 
both Senates have been waiting for you a long time. 
First, however, listen to the decree which I have 
moved in your favor: “ Whereas Timon, son of 
Echekrates of Kollytus, not only a man of culture, 
but also wise as no other man in Greece is, contin- 
ues all the time to do the best things for the city, 
and — Whereas, he has in one of the Olympic games 

*A fund from which the Athenians were furnished money for 
admittance to the theater. 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


8 5 


been victor in boxing, wrestling and running, and 
besides with a four-horse chariot and a two-horse 
chariot, too — ” 

Timon — But I have never been at Olympia even 
as a spectator. 

Demeas — What’s the difference? You will be a 
spectator hereafter. It is better to add many such 
points to the decree, and — “Whereas, he was the 
bravest man last year for the city’s sake against 
Akarnanians and he himself cut to pieces two bat- 
talions of Peloponnesians — ” 

Timon — What is that? Why, from the fact that 
I could not bear arms, I was not even enrolled as a 
soldier. 

Demeas — You speak with modesty of your own 
services, but we would be ungrateful if we did not 
remember them — and Whereas, further, by moving 
decrees, and acting as counselor and general, he has 
benefited the city not a little. For all these rea- 
sons — Be it resolved by the Senate of five hundred 
and the Assembly and the Judiciary, tribe by tribe, 
and by all the people privately and publicly, to erect 
a golden statue of Timon near that of Athene on the 
Acropolis, with a thunderbolt in his right hand and 
seven rays on his head, and — Be it resolved to crown 
him with golden crowns, and that these crowns be 
proclaimed to-day at the Dionysia, at the time of 
the new tragedies — for the Dionysia is celebrated 
to-day on his account. Demeas, the orator, a near 
relative of Timon’s, and his disciple, made this 
motion. Timon is the best or orators and is supe- 
rior in whatever other ways he wishes to be. This 
decree is for you. I wanted to bring my son also 


86 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


to you, whom I have named Timon, after you. 

Timon — How does that come, Demeas, you who 
have never been married, at least, so far as I know? 

Demeas — I shall marry, if God grant it, in an- 
other year and be a father, and the one to be born — 
it will be a boy — I shall call Timon at once. 

Timon — I don’t know whether you will marry or 
not, my fine fellow, when you get so great a blow 
from me. 

Demeas — What on earth does this mean? Are 
you aiming at tyranny? Do you beat free citi- 
zens when you are not properly a free citizen your- 
self? You shall pay the penalty quickly for other 
crimes, and then, too, because you burned the 
Akropolis. 

Timon — Why, the Akropolis has not been 
burned, you wretch. It is plain you are playing 
the sycophant. 

Demeas — But you have gained your riches by 
breaking into Athene’s Treasure house. 

Timon — The Treasury has not been broken into. 
So this statement of yours is not to be believed. 

Demeas — It will be broken into hereafter. You 
now have all the treasures in it. 

Timon — T hen take another blow. 

Demeas — Oh, my back! 

Timon — Don’t bawl out, for I shall just give you a 
third blow. I would indeed be a subject of laughter 
if I, unarmed, cut to pieces two battalions of 
Spartans and then could not crush one wretched 
little excuse for a man. My conquering in wrest- 
ling and boxing at Olympia would be to no pur- 
pose. But what is this? This is not the philoso- 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


87 


pher Thrasykles? It is really no other. He comes 
with his beard flowing, with his eyebrows raised, 
swaggering away to himself, looking every inch a 
Titan, with his hair on his forehead standing up as 
if it were scared, a veritable Boreas or Triton such 
as Zeuxis has painted. This man, lofty in mien, 
stately in his walk, modest in his dress, in the morn- 
ing talks a great deal about virtue, accuses those 
who follow a life of pleasure, and praises frugality. 
When, however, he takes his bath and comes to 
dinner, and his servant hands him a large goblet, 
— he takes the greatest delight in unmixed wine — 
he drains it as it were the water of Lethe, and shows 
himself directly the opposite of his morning dis- 
course on virtue. He snatches the sauces before 
the others as a kite does. He elbows his neighbor 
aside. Full of cheese and honey to the chin, he fills 
himself like a greedy dog. He stoops over as if 
he were expecting to find the virtue in the crumbs. 
He carefully licks the cups, that he may not leave 
even a little of the sauce. He is always complain- 
ing, even if he of all the others gets the whole cake or 
all the pork, or whatever his gluttony and voracity 
demand. He is drunken; he is filled with wine, not 
merely to the point of singing and dancing but 
even to abuse and anger. Besides, at this time in 
particular, with his cup in his hand, he has much to 
say about moderation and decorum. He says it, 
too, already in a wretched condition from his in- 
temperance and lisping laughably. Then on top 
of that comes his vomiting. Finally some take 
him and carry him out of the banqueting room, 
holding on with his hands to the flute player. Even 


88 


SELECTIONS FROM*' LUCIAN. 

when he is sober he yields the supremacy in lying 
or boldness or avarice to no man. He is easily the 
very first of parasites and perjurers. Imposture is 
his guide. Shamelessness is ever at his side. In 
short, he is a sort of all-wise creature, accurate in all 
things and perfect in all arts ! He shall groan for 
it shortly, fine fellow that he is. Why is this? 
Pshaw ! our Thrasykles is late. 

Thrasykles — I am not here, Timon, in the 
same spirit as this crowd who, wondering at your 
wealth, have come together in the hope of getting 
silver and gold and costly banquets and to show ex- 
cessive flattery to such a man as you are, simple in 
character and liberal with his money. Y ou know 
that a cake is sufficient dinner for me and thyme or 
cress is a very sweet dessert; or if I ever use luxu- 
ries, a little salt. The water from the public foun- 
tain is my drink; and this coarse mantle is better 
than any purple robe whatever. In my estimation, 
gold is no more precious than the pebbles on the 
seashore. I came here for your sake in order that 
this most evil and treacherous possession, wealth, 
which has been at many times and to many people 
the cause of unbearable calamities, may not cor- 
rupt you. Now if you listen to me you will, I’m 
sure, throw it all into the sea since it is in no way 
a necessity to a good man, to a man who is able to 
see the wealth in philosophy. However, don’t 
hurl it into deep water, my good friend, but stand- 
ing in only to your loins, cast it a little in front 
of the breakers when I am the only one looking on. 
If you don’t like this, a better way is to carry it 
quickly out of your house, leaving not even an obol 


TIMON OR THE MISANTHROPE. 


89 


for yourself, and to distribute it to the needy, to 
one man five drachmas, to another a mina, and 
to another half a talent. But if any one should 
be a philosopher, he deserves a double or treble 
portion. To me — I don’t ask it for myself but 
that I may share it with my needy companions 
— to me it will be sufficient if you fill this bag 
which contains not quite four bushels. The man 
who is a philosopher ought to be frugal and modest 
and have no thought beyond his wallet. 

Timon — I commend you for this, Thrasykles, 
but, before filling your wallet, if you please, I shall 
just fill your head with bumps, taking their meas- 
ure with this pick. 

Thrasykles — O democracy and laws ! I am 
struck by this accursed fellow in a free city. 

Timon — What are you complaining of, my good 
friend? I didn’t give you false weight, did I? I’ll 
just add four quarts over measure. But what is 
all this? They are coming in crowds, Blepsias, 
Laches, and Gniphon* and, in short, the whole 
array of those who are destined to groan. So, why 
should I not go upon this cliff and give my pick a 
little rest since it has toiled for a long time? Why 
should I not myself gather as many stones as pos- 
sible and hail them from afar? 

Blepsias — Don’t hit us, Timon, we are going 
away. 

Timon — Y ou shall not go away without losing 
some blood, nor without w'ounds. 

♦As Mr. C. R. Williams says, “Shark,” "Sharer," and "Skin- 
flint,” would give an idea of the meaning of these names. 











THE COCK 


characters: 

MIKYLUS, COCK, SIMON. 











M IKYLUS — Most accursed cock, may Jupiter 
himself destroy you because you bear such 
a grudge against me and are so shrill-voiced. When 
I was rich and enjoying a most delicious dream and 
marvelous prosperity, you, with piercing cry, woke 
me up, so that not even by night I might escape my 
poverty which is far more abominable than you. 
Judging by the deep quiet which still prevails and 
by the fact that the frost does not yet freeze me as 
it usually does of mornings — a most certain index 
of the coming day — it is not yet midnight. This 
sleepless fellow, just as if he were guarding the 
golden fleece, has been crowing ever since evening. 
Not with impunity, however, for I’ll take vengeance 
on you, be assured, if only day breaks, by crushing 
you with my staff. If I try it now you will give 
me trouble by leaping about in the darkness. 

Cock — Master Mikylus, I thought I would do 
you a favor by begrudging you as much of the 
night as I could in order that you might get up and 
accomplish the greater part of your work. If you 
make one shoe before the sun rises you will have 
done that which will be a help for your support. 
But if it is sweeter to sleep I’ll keep quiet and be 
more close-mouthed than the fish. Y ou see to it, 
( 93 ) 


94 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


however, that, while you are dreaming of riches, 
you don’t starve after you get up. 

Mikylus — O Jupiter, worker of miracles, and 
Herakles, who wardest off evils, what mischief is 
this? The cock spoke like a human being. 

Cock — Does it seem to you to be such a wonder, 
then, if I speak the same language that you do? 

Mikylus — How is it not a marvel? O, ye gods, 
avert the evil from us. 

Cock — You are evidently quite uneducated, 
Mikylus, and have not read the poems of Homer, in 
which the horse of Achilles, Xanthus, bidding a 
long farewell by his neighing, stood in the midst of 
the battle talking, chanting whole stanzas, not with- 
out meter, as I do now. Nay, he even prophesied and 
foretold the future. He did not seem to be doing 
anything strange, nor did the man who heard him 
call on the averter of evils, as you did, thinking that 
what he heard was to be deprecated. What would 
you have done if the keel of the ship Argo had 
spoken to you, just as once upon a time the oak tree 
in Dodona prophesied in a real voice, or if you had 
seen hides creeping and the flesh of oxen bellowing 
when it was half-roasted and pierced with spits? 
Since I am an attendant of Hermes, the most talk- 
ative and wordy of all the gods together, and since 
I in other matters live and am supported as you 
are, I must easily have learned the speech of man- 
kind. If you would promise me to keep quiet, I 
would not hesitate to relate the real cause of my 
likeness of speech to you and whence it belongs to 
me to speak so. 


THE COCK. 


95 


Mikylus — Well, this isn’t a dream, is it, a cock 
talking to me this way? Tell me, by Hermes, my 
good friend, what other cause of your speech there 
is. Why should you be afraid about my keeping 
still and telling no one? Who would believe me if 
I should tell them I heard the cock say that ? 

Cock — Hear, then, what I know is a marvelous 
statement to you, Mikylus. This one who now ap- 
pears to you as a cock was a man not long ago. 

Mikylus — I heard some such story as that about 
you long ago; that a certain young Cock was a 
friend to Mars and drank with the god, reveled 
with him and shared in his love affairs. When- 
ever Mars went to visit Aphrodite, I heard that he 
took the Cock with him, and since Mars was espe- 
cially suspicious of the Sun, for fear he would 
look down upon him and tell the whole story to 
Vulcan, he always left the young fellow on the out- 
side at the door to make known when the Sun 
came up. Once the Cock went to sleep and be^ 
trayed his guard involuntarily, and so the Sun se- 
cretly came out and stood by Aphrodite and Mars, 
the visitor carelessly believing that the Cock would 
tell him if any one approached. So Vulcan, learn- 
ing of the matter from the Sun, seized them by 
surrounding and ensnaring them with chains which 
had long been made for them. When he was re- 
leased, as he was, Mars was vexed at the Cock and 
changed him into this bird, arms and all. So that 
to this day he has the crest of the helmet on his 
head. On this account you make your defense to 
Mars, though it does you no good, and whenever 


96 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

you see the Sun rising you cry out long beforehand 
to indicate his coming up. 

Cock — Yes, that is what people say, Mikylus, 
but my case is somewhat different and quite lately 
I was changed into a cock. 

Mikylus — How? I would like especially to know 
this. 

Cock — You have heard of one Pythagoras, the 
son of Mnesarchus, of Samos? 

Mikylus — You mean the sophist — the impos- 
tor — who made a regulation not to taste flesh nor 
to eat beans, banishing from the table what was to 
me a most delicious sauce, and beside, persuading 
men that he was Euphorbus before he was Pythag- 
oras. They say the man was a sorcerer and a 
worker of wonders, Cock. 

Cock — I, myself, am that Pythagoras; so stop 
reviling me, my good sir, and especially since you 
do not know what my character was. 

Mikylus — This is far more wonderful than that, 
philosopher Cock. But tell me, son of Mnesarchus, 
how you have appeared as a bird instead of a man 
and from Tanagra instead of Samos? That is not 
plausible nor very easy to believe, for I think I 
have already observed two characteristics in you 
quite different from Pythagoras. 

Cock — What are they? 

Mikylus — One is that you are talkative and 
clamorous, while his advice was to keep silent for 
five whole years; the other is altogether contrary 
to orders, for because I had nothing to throw to 
you, I came yesterday, as you know, with some 
beans, and you did not hesitate at all, but picked 


THE COCK. 


97 


them up. So that you either must have lied and 
must be another person, or, being Pythagoras, you 
must have broken the law, and in eating the beans 
must have committed a sin equal to having eaten 
your father’s head. 

Cock — Why, you don’t know what the cause of 
this is nor what is suitable for each kind of life. 
Then, when I was Pythagoras, I did not eat of the 
beans, for I was a philosopher. Now, however, I 
would eat them since they are a food for birds and 
not forbidden us. But, if you like, hear how I am 
now this bird instead of Pythagoras and in what 
lives I formerly lived and how I have enjoyed each 
change. 

Mikylus — Proceed, since the story would be to 
me exceedingly pleasant. If any one should offer 
me the choice of hearing you narrate such stories or 
of seeing again that favorable dream of a little while 
ago, I do not know which of the two I would choose. 
I consider your stories closely related to my sweet 
dream and I hold you and my precious vision in 
equal honor. 

C OCK — Why, are you still pondering over what 
that dream meant, preserving certain vain appear- 
ances, pursuing in your memory a sort of empty 
and, as the poets say, fleeting happiness? 

Mikylus — I’ ll never forget, O Cock, that vision, 
be assured. The dream went away leaving so 
much honey in my eyes that I can scarcely open 
my eyelids, which are drawn by it into sleep again. 


7 


98 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

What I saw tickled me as much as feathers do when 
turned in the ears. 

Cock — Herakles, the love of the dream you speak 
of is something terrible, if being winged, as they 
say, and having sleep as the limit of its flight, it has 
already leaped the boundaries and is spending time 
in your open eyes, appearing so honey-like and 
clear ! I want to hear of what sort it is, if it is so 
longed for by you. 

Mikylus — I am ready to tell you. To call it to 
mind and to tell something about it is sweet to me, 
But, Pythagoras, when will you tell me about those 
transformations ? 

Cock — When you stop dreaming, Mikylus, and 
rub the honey off your eyelids. For the present, 
tell me first, for my information, whether the dream 
was sent to you through the ivory gates or through 
the gates of horn. 

Mikylus — Through neither of these, Pythago- 
ras. 

Cock — And yet Homer mentions these two only. 

Mikylus — Bid that humbug poet farewell, he 
doesn’t know anythingaboutdreams. Poor dreams, 
perhaps, such as he saw, come through such gates ; 
nor did he see them very clearly, for he was blind. 
My sweet dream, however, came through some 
golden gates, a golden dream itself, all clothed with 
gold and bringing much gold. 

Cock — Stop, my dear Midas, talking about gold. 
Your dream is simply from Midas’ prayer; you 
seem to me to have slept whole mines of gold. 

Mikylus — I saw much gold, Pythagoras, much 
of it. How beautiful do you think it was and 


THE COCK. 


99 


gleaming forth in what radiance? What does Pin- 
dar say in praise of it? Quote for me, if you 
know, what he says of water as the best thing, then 
what praise he bestows upon gold, rightly, too, in 
the very beginning of the book — more beautiful 
than all his odes put together. 

Cock — You don’t mean this, do you ? “Water 
is the best, but gold, like blazing fire at night, far 
excels glorious riches.” 

Mikylus — Bj' Jupiter, that’s it. Pindar praises 
gold just as if he had seen my dream. That you 
may learn at once what it was, listen, most wise 
Cock. I did not dine at home yesterday, you know. 
Eukrates, the rich man, met me in the market and 
urged me after my bath to come to dinner at the 
regular hour. 

Cock — I know that I was hungry the whole day 
through until you came home late in the evening 
intoxicated, bringing those five beans — not a very 
ample dinner for a cock that was once an athlete 
and had gained the honor of the Olympic prize. 

Mikylus — When I had dined and returned I lay 
down at once after throwing you the beans, and 
then, as Homer says, “in the ambrosial night a real- 
ly divine dream standing over” 

Cock — Tell what happened at the house of Eu- 
krates, first, Mikylus, and what sort of a supper you 
had and all the points about the' banquet. Noth- 
ing hinders you from dining again, restoring, as it 
were, a sort of dream of that dinner, and in mem- 
ory chewing the cud of what was there eaten. 

Mikylus — I thought I would annoy you in de- 
tailing this, but since you are eager for it, I’ll tell it. 


100 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Never in all my life, Pythagoras, having dined at a 
rich man’s house, as good luck would have it, I met 
Eukrates yesterday. After I had, according to cus- 
tom, saluted him as master, I was on the point of 
leaving, that I might not disgrace him by associat- 
ing with him in my threadbare cloak. He, how- 
ever, said, “Mikylus, I am celebrating the birthday 
of my daughter to-day and have invited very many 
of my friends. But since they say that one of them 
is sick and not able to dine with us, you take your 
bath and come in his place, unless the one who is 
invited says hereafter that he will come. As it is 
now, he is doubtful.” When I had heard this and 
made my obeisance, I left him, praying to all the 
gods to send the ague or pleurisy or gout upon that 
man who was indisposed, as whose alternate at the 
dinner and as whose successor I had been invited. 
The time up to the bath I considered an age, con- 
stantly thinking how many feet long the shadow of 
the sun-dial was and at what hour it was necessary 
to take the bath. When the time came, quickly 
cleansing myself, I went, having dressed very prop- 
erly by turning my cloak in order that it might 
show the cleaner side. I found at the door not only 
many other people, but also that very man in whose 
place I was to dine, the man said to be sick, carried 
on a stretcher by four servants. He showed that 
he was in bad condition ; at least he was groaning 
and coughing a deep cough and he was expectorat- 
ing so that you could not approach him. He was 
very pale and bloated, a man of about sixty years. 
It was said that he was one of those philosophers 
who talk nonsense to youths. At least his beard 


-V 

< ? 

« < 


THE COCK. 


IOI 


was very tragic, needing trimming badly. When 
Archibius the physician blamed him for coming in 
such a condition, he said it was not right for one, 
especially a philosopher, to give up one’s engage- 
ments, even if ten thousand diseases stood in the way. 
“For Eukrates,” he said, “will think that he has been 
slighted by us.” “ No, he will not,” said I, “but 
Eukrates will thank you if you consent to die at home 
by yourself rather than at the banquet, throwing up 
your very soul with phlegm.” He, in his greatness 
of soul, pretended not to hear my joke. In a little 
while, Eukrates, after his bath, stood near him, and, 
looking at Thesmopolis, for that is what the philos- 
opher was called, said : “ Master, you did well to 
come in person to ray house. But no loss would 
have come to you, for even in your absence every- 
thing would have been sent to you.” While saying 
this he went in, leading by the hand Thesmopolis, 
who was leaning on the servants. I was preparing 
to go away; but Eukrates, turning to me and stand- 
ing in doubt some time, when he saw that I was 
very sad, said : “ Y ou, too, come along, Mikylus, 
and dine with us. I shall have my son to eat with 
his mother in the women’s department, in order 
that you may have a place.” I went in, therefore, 
gaping like a wolf that had almost lost its dinner. 
I was ashamed, because I seemed to have driven 
from the symposium the son of Eukrates. When 
it was time to sit down, first, not without trouble, 
by Jupiter, five strong youths, I think it was, took 
up Thesmopolis and placed him on the couch, stuff- 
ing pillows under his neck on all sides, so that he 
might remain in position and be able to keep his 


102 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


strength for some time. Then, as no one would en- 
dure reclining near him, they had me sit down by 
him, that we two might be table companions. After 
that, Pythagoras, we dined off of some delicious 
sauce and had a variety of things to eat, served on 
much gold and silver. The beakers, too, were of 
gold; the servants were in the bloom of youth. Be- 
tween courses we had minstrels and clowns. In 
short, the time was pretty well spent. One thing, 
however, bored me immoderately. Thesmopolis 
worried me, talking to me about a certain kind of 
virtue and teaching me that two negatives make an 
affirmative and that if it is day it can not be night. 
And at one time he said that I had horns. String- 
ing together many such philosophical ideas for me 
who had no need of them, he cut off my enjoyment 
by not allowing me to hear the players on the cith- 
ara nor the singers. Such was the character of 
our meal, Cock. 

Cock — Not a very pleasant one, Mikylus, and 
especially since you were coupled with that old fool. 

Mikylus — Now listen to my dream, too. I 
thought Eukrates himself was childless, I don’t 
know how, and was on his death bed. I thought he 
summoned me and made his will, in which I was 
sole heir. Then, lingering awhile, he died. I 
thought that after I had come into possession of 
the property, I drew out with some large scoop- 
shovels the gold and silver as they poured in un- 
ceasingly and in large amounts. All the other 
property, clothing, tables, drinking cups and serv- 
ants was, as it seemed, mine. Then I rode out in a 
chariot with white horses, throwing myself back, the 


THE COCK. 


103 


admired of all who saw me and an object of envy 
to them. Many footmen went before me and many 
outriders, followed by a more numerous train. I, 
now, having Eukrates’ clothing and wearing on my 
fingers heavy rings to the number of about sixteen, 
ordered a brilliant feast to be prepared for the en- 
tertainment of my friends. They, as is natural in a 
dream, were on hand at once, and the dinner was 
just being brought in and the drinking bout was 
just ready. While I was in this condition and drink- 
ing from golden cups the health of each one pres- 
ent, and while the pastry was just being carried in, 
you screamed in your untimely way and disturbed 
our banquet. Y ou upset the tables, and scattering 
my wealth, gave it over to the winds. Do I seem 
to have been unreasonably indignant at you? For 
three evenings yet I would gladly have seen the 
dream coming to me. 

Cock — Are you so fond of gold and wealth, 
Mikylus? Do you admire this alone above every- 
thing and do you think that to possess much gold 
is prosperity? 

Mikylus — Not I alone think that, Pythagoras, 
but you yourself, when you were Euphorbus, wear- 
ing gold and silver in your locks, went forth thus to 
fight with the Achseans, and though in battle, where 
it were better to wear steel than gold, you then 
deemed it right to engage in the contest binding up 
your hair with gold. It seems to me that for this 
reason Homer called your locks “ like the Graces,” 
saying that “ they were bound with gold and silver.” 
Plainly, they appear far finer and more lovely when 
plaited and gleaming with gold. Yet, golden-haired 


104 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

friend, you were moderate if, as the son of Panthus, 
you honored gold. The father of all the gods and 
men, son of Kronos and Rhea, when he was in love 
with that Argive maiden, not being able to change 
himself into anything more lovely, nor being able 
to corrupt the guard of Akrisius, as you have no 
doubt heard, became gold, and flowing down 
through the roof wooed his beloved. Why should 
I, after this, tell you how many needs gold supplies, 
and how it makes those who have it beautiful and 
wise and strong, bestowing honor and glory upon 
them, and instead of rendering them obscure and 
unknown, sometimes in a brief moment brings 
them admiration and fame? At least, you know 
that my neighbor, a shoemaker as I am, dined with 
me not long ago, when I boiled the pea soup at 
the Kronia,* putting in with it two slices of sausage. 

Cock — I know the snub-nosed man, the short 
fellow who after dinner stole the clay cup, the only 
one we had, and went off with it under his arm. 
For I saw him, Mikylus. 

Mikylus — Did he steal it and then swear falsely 
by so many gods? Why didn’t you cry out and 
make it known then, Cock, when you saw me 
robbed? 

Cock — I did crow, the only thing which was pos- 
sible then. But what about Simon. It seems to 
me you were going to say something about him. 

Mikylus — He had an exceedingly rich cousin, 
Demylus by name. This man, while he was alive, 
did not give even an obol to Simon. Why should 


* A festival in honor of Kronus (Saturn). 


THE COCK. 


105 

he? Even he himself did not touch his money. 
When he died lately all that property fell, accord- 
ing to law, to Simon, and now he, the man with 
dirty, ragged clothing, the man who gladly licked 
the platter clean, drives out clothed in purple and 
scarlet. He has servants and chariots and golden 
beakers and tables with ivory legs; he is saluted by 
all, but does not even look at us anymore. At 
least, the other day, when I saw him approaching 
and said, “ Hail, Simon,” he was indignant and 
said, “ Tell that poor beggar not to abridge my 
name. My name is not Simon but Simonides.” 
And the biggest thing of all is, the ladies already 
love him, but he puts on airs toward them and dis- 
dains them. Some of them he allows to approach 
and is gracious to them, while others threaten to 
hang themselves by reason of his neglect. Y ou see 
of how many blessings gold is the cause; it trans- 
forms the ugly and makes them lovely, just like that 
girdle of Aphrodite spoken of by the poets. Y ou 
have heard the poets saying: “O gold, most beauti- 
ful gift,” and “ gold is that which holds the powers 
of mortals.” But why did you laugh in the midst 
of my remarks, Cock? 

Cock — Because, Mikylus, you, too, like the mass 
of people, have been thoroughly deceived concern- 
ing the wealthy. Be assured the rich live a life far 
more wretched than you. I tell you this, for I have 
often been poor and rich and have tried every kind 
of life. After little you yourself will know each 
kind of life. 

Mikylus — By Jupiter, it is time now for you to 


106 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

tell how you were changed and what you are con- 
scious of in each life. 

Cock — Listen, then, knowing this much before- 
hand, that I have never seen anyone living more 
happily than you. 

Mikylus — Than I, Cock? May you enjoy the 
same life as I! Why, you induce me to abuse you. 
But beginning from Euphorbus, tell how you were 
changed into Pythagoras; from that, in order, up to 
the Cock. It is likely you saw and suffered a va- 
riety of things in your various lives. 

Cock — How my soul from Apollo flew down 
into the earth and entered the body of a man, and 
what penalty it expiated, would make a long story, 
and especially since it is not right for me to tell nor 
for you to hear such matters. When I became 
Euphorbus — 

Mikylus — Tell me this first, whether I, loo, was 
ever changed as you were. 

Cock — Why, certainly. 

Mikylus — Who was I, if you are at all able to 
tell? I want to know that. 

Cock— You? You were one of those Indian 
ants that dig up gold dust. 

Mikylus — Was I then such a wretch that I hes- 
itated to provide myself with even a little of the 
dust before coming from that life into this? But 
tell me what I shall be after this. It is possible 
that you know. For if there be anything in pros- 
pect for me I shall arise at once and hang myself 
from that peg on which you are standing. 

Cock — You should not learn this by any means. 
But to resume, when I became Euphorbus I fought 


THE COCK. 


107 


at Troy, and being slain by Menelaus, after a while 
I came into Pythagoras. I waited around homeless 
and hearthless until Mnesarchus prepared my home. 

Mikylus — Without food and drink, my friend? 

Cock — Of course, there was no need of these ex- 
cept for the body alone. 

Mikylus — Tell me first what happened at Troy. 
Were matters such as Homer says they were? 

Cock — How did he know about Troy, Mikylus, 
he who, while the siege was going on, was a camel 
in Bactria? I’ll tell you so much. At that time 
there was nothing supernatural, nor was Ajax such 
a giant, nor was Helen herself such a beauty as 
they think. I saw a certain fair lady, a lady with 
the long neck, quite natural in that she was the 
daughter of a swan,* but in other respects she 
was very old, almost as old as Hekuba.f This fair 
lady, Theseus, $ who was a contemporary of Herak- 
les, first carried off and kept in Aphidnse. Herakles 
had formerly captured Troy about the time of our 
fathers. Panthus told me this, saying that as a mere 
youth he had seen Herakles. 

Mikylus — Was Achilles such as he is described, 
the best in everything, or is this, too, nothing but a 
myth? 

Cock — I did not associate with him, Mikylus, 
nor could I tell you so accurately about the affairs 
of the Achgeans. How could I, since I was their 
enemy? However, Achilles’ companion, Patroklus, 

* Helen was the daughter of the swan, 
t Wife of Priam, King of T roy. 
t National hero of Attica. 


io8 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


I killed without any difficulty, piercing him through 
with the lance. 

Mikylus — Then Menelaus killed you with far 
less difficulty. But enough of that. Tell me about 
Pythagoras. 

Cock — In short, Mikylus, I was a Sophist. It is 
necessary, methinks, to tell you the truth. But in 
other respects I was not uneducated nor unprac- 
ticed in the most noble sciences. I went from home 
and sojourned in Egypt that I might associate with 
the priests for wisdom’s sake, and I went down into 
the holy places and thoroughly learned the books 
of Orus and Isis. Aftei*wards I sailed away to Italy 
and so disposed the Greeks in that vicinity that 
they considered me a god. 

Mikylus — I heard that, and that you seemed to 
come to life again after dying, and that once you 
showed them your golden thigh. But tell me this, 
why did it occur to you to make a law to eat neither 
flesh nor beans? 

Cock — Don’t question me about such things, 
Mikylus. 

Mikylus — Why, Cock? 

Cock — Because I am ashamed to tell you the 
truth about them. 

Mikylus — I am sure you ought not to hesitate 
to tell a man who lives with you, a friend, for mas- 
ter I should no longer call you. 

Cock — There was no sound or good reason, but I 
saw that if I should believe what was customary 
and the same as the masses, I would, in a very 
small measure, draw men to the wonder. The 
more odd I might be, the more reverence I thought 


THE COCK. 


IO9 

I would receive from them. On this account I de- 
cided to introduce something new, keeping the 
cause of it a secret, in order that one conjecturing 
in one way and another in another, they might all 
be amazed just as they are in the mysteries of the 
oracles. See? You, too, on your part, have the 
laugh on me. 

Mikylus — Not so much on you as on the people 
of Crotona, Metapontum and Tarentum* and the 
other dumb folks who followed you and kissed the 
footprints which you left in your walks. But when 
you had put off Pythagoras whom did you assume 
after him? 

Cock — Aspasia, the beauty from Miletus. 

Mikylus — O, what a story! Was Pythagoras, 
among other things, a woman, too, and was there a 
time when you laid eggs, most noble Cock? Did 
you associate with Perikles in the person of Aspa- 
sia? Were you the mother of his children and did 
you comb wool and spin thread and play the wife 
after the manner of the hetserse? 

Cock — Not I alone did this, but even Tiresiasf 
before me and the son of Elatus, Ksenus.i So that 
in whatsoever things you make sport of me you will 
make sport of them, too. 

Mikylus — Which life was sweeter to you, when 
you were a man or when you were the wife of 
Perikles? 

Cock — Do you see what sort of a question you 

•Cities in Southern Italy. 

tThe blind seer of Thebes. 

JA Lapith, said once to have been a maiden. 


no 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


asked me and that the answer brought no advan- 
tage even to Tiresias? 

Mikylus — If you don’t tell me, Euripides has 
sufficiently decided the matter, saying that he 
would rather thrice stand in battle than give birth 
once. 

Cock — I shall call your attention to this, Mikylus, 
when you are in birth pains not far in the future. 
For you, too, will be a woman often. 

Mikylus — Go and be hanged, Cock, if you think 
that all are Milesians or Samians. What man or 
woman were you after Aspasia? 

Cock — The Cynic Krates. 

Mikylus — O, Castor and Pollux, what dissimi- 
larity! Out of a courtesan into a philosopher. 

Cock — Then a king, then a beggar; after a while 
a satrap, then a horse and a jackdaw and a frog 
and countless other things. It would take a long 
time to go over the list and enumerate each thing. 
But finally a cock, often, for such a life pleased me. 
Having served many others, kings, beggars and 
millionaires, at last now I am your companion, and 
laugh every day at you because you lament and be- 
wail your poverty and admire the rich through ig- 
norance of their calamities. If you knew the anxi- 
eties which they have you would laugh at yourself 
because you at first thought that a rich man was 
very happy. 

Mikylus — Then, Pythagoras, or whatever you 
most like to be called, that I may not disturb the 
argument by calling you now one thing, now an- 
other — 

Cock — It will not make any difference whether 


THE COCK. 


Ill 


you call me Euphorbus or Pythagoras or Aspasia 
or Krates, for I am all these. But you would do 
better by calling that which you now see “ Cock,” 
in order not to dishonor the bird which may seem 
to be worthless — a bird, too, which has such great 
souls in itself. 

Mikylus — Well, then, Cock, since you have tried 
almost all kinds of life and are everything, you should 
tell me at once, clearly in private, the affairs of the 
rich, as to their manner of 'life, and privately, too ? 
the affairs of the poor, that I may learn whether 
you speak the truth when you declare that I am 
happier than the wealthy. 

Cock — Come, now, look at it this way, Mikylus; 
you have no anxiety about war, if it is reported that 
the enemy is approaching, nor do you show any 
anxiety lest they may invade and cut up your field, 
or trample down your garden, or cut to pieces your 
vines; but if you hear the trumpet you merely look 
around — if you must do it — for your own interest, 
to see whither }mu should turn to be saved and to 
escape the danger. The rich, however, are anxious 
about themselves, too, and when they see from the 
walls their fields plundered, they are distressed. If 
taxes are to be paid, they alone are summoned ; if 
any expedition is to be made, they incur the danger 
as generals and cavalry commanders. But you, 
with your wicker shield, well equipped and lightly 
armed for safety, are ready to feast at the victor’s 
banquet when the triumphant general makes his 
sacrifice. In peace, on the other hand, you, as one 
of the people, go into the assembly and play the 
tyrant over the rich, while they tremble and crouch 


1 12 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


with fear and appease you with gifts. In order 
that you may have baths and games and theatrical 
shows and all the other things that give satisfaction, 
they toil, but you are an examiner and an auditor, 
stern as a despot, sometimes not even allowing a 
word to be said. If you think best, you hail down 
a shower of stones upon them or appropriate prop- 
erty for public uses. You are not afraid of a syco- 
phant, you are not afraid that a robber may break 
through the wall of your house and take away your 
gold. Nor do you have trouble in making out ac- 
counts or collecting debts or quarreling with accursed 
stewards. Y ou are not distracted bj r such anxieties, 
but you make a sandal, receive seven obols as pay, 
rise from your work late in the afternoon, take a 
bath if you want to, buy a perch or a sprat or a 
few small heads of cabbage, and are happy, singing 
many songs besides philosophizing on your very 
fine poverty. On this account you are in good 
health and strong in body and can endure cold. 
The labors which whet you make you an opponent 
not to be despised in those things which seem to 
others to be unconquerable. I am sure none of 
these severe diseases come upon you, but if ever a 
light fever seizes you, being subject to it a little 
while, you quickly throw off the misery and leap 
up, while the fever, through fear, immediately takes 
to its heels as it sees you drinking cold water and 
bidding the physicians and their visits go howl! 
But the rich, wretched from intemperance, what 
diseases do they not have — the gout, consumption, 
pneumonia and dropsy ? These things are the> 
offspring of costly banquets. Now, some of them 


THE COCK. 


IJ 3 

like Ikarus, raise themselves aloft and, approach- 
ing the sun, not knowing that their plumage has 
been fitted on with wax, sometimes make a great 
splashing by falling headlong into the sea. But 
they who, like Daedalus, do not have very high and 
lofty thoughts, but lowly ones, so as to dampen 
the wax sometimes in the sea brine, these fly safely 
for the most part. 

Mikylus — You are referring to certain wise and 
sensible people. 

Cock — However, Mikylus, y'ou should see the 
very disgraceful shipwrecks of the others. Croesus 
with his feathers plucked furnishes laughter to the 
Persians as he goes upon the funeral pyre. Diony- 
sius, his tyranny overwhelmed in the wars, may be 
seen as a teacher in Corinth, after so much power, 
instructing the boys how to pronounce their syl- 
lables. 

Mikylus — Tell me, Cock, when you were a king 
— for you say that once you were a king — what kind 
of a life it was that you then experienced. Were 
you very happy, having what is the chief of all 
blessings? 

Cock — Don’t even remind me of it, Mikylus, so 
wretched was I then, seeming to be very happj% 
as you said, by all that was on the outside, but with- 
in contending with ten thousand annoyances. 

Mikylus — What were they? You speak of 
strange things and things not at all credible. 

Cock — I was ruler of no small country, Mikylus, 
a very productive one, in multitude of men and 
beauty of cities worthy of especial admiration. 

8 


1 14 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

Navigable rivers flowed through it. It had fine 
harbors on the sea-coast. The army was large, the 
cavalry well trained, the guards by no means few, 
the men of war and sums of money vast in number, 
the vessels of gold numerous, and all the rest of the 
glitter of royalty heaped up to excess. Conse- 
quently, whenever I rode out the masses made their 
obeisance and thought they were looking upon a 
sort of god and they ran to see me. Others, climbing 
upon the roofs, considered it a great thing to have 
had a good view of my chariot, my cloak, my diadem, 
my forerunners and followers. But I, knowing what 
was annoying and wrenching me with pain, par- 
doned their ignorance and pitied myself because I 
was like those mighty Colossi such as Phidias or 
Myron or Praxiteles made. Each one of these 
Colossi on the outside was a Neptune or a Jupiter, 
very beautifully worked out of gold and ivory and 
had a thunderbolt or flash of lightning or trident in 
the right hand. If, however, you stoop down and 
look within, you will see bars and bolts and nails 
piercing through and through, and logs and wedges 
and pitch and mortar and much of such ugliness 
concealed within. I do not stop to mention numbers 
of rats and mice which have their abode in there 
sometimes. Of some such character is a kingdom. 

Mikylus — You have not yet said what the mor- 
tar and the bars and the bolts which belong to the 
kingdom are, nor what that great ugliness is. To 
drive out, to be looked up to, to rule so many and 
to be saluted as a god is really like the colossal pat- 
tern on the outside. This is something divine. 
Tell me at once about the inside of the Colossus. 


THE COCK. 


115 

Cock — What shall I say first, Mikylus? Shall I 
mention the fears and the frights, the suspicion and 
hatred coming from associates; the plots, too, and 
then by reason of these the scanty sleep,, and that 
merely on the surface; the dreams full of trouble, 
the intricate speculations, the hopes always bad? 
Or shall I mention the lack of leisure and the recep- 
tions of embassadors, the cases in court and expedi- 
tions, the orders, agreements and financial matters? 
By reason of all this, even in a dream there is no en- 
joyment of anything sweet, but, by necessity, we 
must see to everything and have countless troubles. 
Not even in the case of Atreides Agamemnon, 

“ Did sweet sleep hold him as he thought over many things in 
his mind/' 

and that, too, when all the Achseans were sleeping. 
The fact that one son is dumb worries Croesus, the 
Lydian. Klearchus annoys the Persian Artaxerxes 
by collecting troops for Cyrus. Dion worries 
Dionysius by taking counsel in secret with some of 
the Syracusans. Parmenio annoys Alexander by re- 
ceiving praise. Ptolemseus, Perdikkas and Seleukus, 
Ptolemseus. This, too, worries them, that their fa- 
vorite associates with them by compulsion, that 
their mistress is happy with another. Some say 
they will revolt and that two or four of the guards 
are whispering to each other. The greatest annoy- 
ance is that one must strongly suspect his dearest 
friends, must anticipate always that he will be in 
some danger from them. One king, at least, died 
from poison at the hands of the son, and the son 
himself then died at the hands of his favorite, and a 


Il6 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

like manner of death, no doubt, seized another 
one. 

Mikylus — Begone ! That is a terrible story you 
are telling, Cock. For me, at least, it is much safer 
to be stooped over cutting shoe leather than to 
drink from a golden vial the loving cup mixed with 
hemlock or aconite. The danger I incur is that if 
the knife slip and miss making the straight line I 
may cut my fingers and soil them a little with blood. 
But they, as you say, feast on deadly things, even 
while associating with countless evils. Then, when 
they fall, they appear especially like the tragic 
actors, many of whom it is possible to see for the 
time as Kekrops forsooth or Sisyphus or Telephus^ 
with diadems and ivory-hilted swords and shaggy 
hair and gold-besprinkled mantles. If, however, as 
often happens, one of them makes a false step and 
falls in the middle of the stage it causes great 
laughter among the spectators, as the mask, diadem 
and all, is ruined; the head of the actor is covered 
with blood, his limbs are stripped bare, so that the 
inside rags of his clothing are seen to be miserable 
and the sandal of his cothurnus most ugly and not 
at all in proportion to his foot. Do you see, my 
good friend Cock, that j’-ou have taught me already 
to make comparisons? A tyranny, then, has been 
seen to be of some such character. Whenever you 
became a horse or dog or a fish or a frog, how did 
you spend your time? 

Cock — That is a long story you are stirring up 
and not suitable to the present occasion. The main 
thing is this: There is no life which did not seem 
more peaceful to me than human life, measured by 


THE COCK. 


IT 7 

the natural desires and needs alone. Y ou could not 
see in them a horse as a tax collector or a frog as a 
sycophant or a jackdaw as a sophist or a gnat as a 
cook or a cock as a lecherous fellow or whatever 
you have in mind. 

Mikylus — That is probably true, Cock, but I am 
not ashamed to tell you what I have experienced. 
I am not yet able to remove from my mind the de- 
sire, which I had from my childhood, to become 
rich. Even that dream still remains before my eyes 
pointing out the gold, and especially do I choke with 
indignation at that accursed Simon faring sumptu- 
ously in so many good things. 

Cock — I shall heal you of that, Mikylus. Since 
it is still night, get out of bed and follow me. I 
shall lead you to that very Simon and into the 
house of the others, that you may see how matters 
stand with them. 

Mikylus — How will you do that when the doors 
are locked, unless you compel me to dig through the 
walls like a burglar? 

Cock — Not at all, but Hermes, whose priest I am, 
gave me this special privilege. If any one pull out 
the longest tail feather, which, on account of its ten- 
derness, curls — 

Mikylus — But you have two such feathers. 

Cock — To whomsoever, then, I grant the privi- 
lege of drawing out the feather, and whoever holds 
such an one for so long a time as I please, he is able 
to open every door and see everything, though un- 
seen himself. 

Mikylus — It had escaped me, Cock, that you, 
too, were a sorcerer. If you once give me this 


Il8 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

feather you shall see all of Simon’s property brought 
over here in short order. For I shall go and trans- 
fer it, and he will again gnaw the leather as he 
stretches it. 

Cock — It is not lawful to do that. Hermes told 
me, if the man who has the feather does such a 
thing to any one, to cry out and catch the thief in 
the very act. 

Mikylus — That is an incredible story, that 
Hermes, himself a thief, should begrudge others 
the same privilege. Let us go anyhow. I shall 
refrain from taking the gold if I can. 

Cock — Pluck out the feather first, Mikylus. 
What do you mean? You pulled out both of them. 

Mikylus — It is much safer thus, Cock, and for 
you it would be less ugly, in order that you might 
not be imperfect through the lack of one part of 
your tail. 

Cock — All right. Shall we go to Simon’s first 
or to some other one of the rich people? 

Mikylus — No, indeed, not to any other, but to 
Simon’s, who just now having become rich, thinks 
he is worthy of having four syllables in his name 
instead of two. And now here we are at his door. 
What shall I do next? 

Cock — Place the feather on the bolt. 

Mikylus — Just see there! O, Herakles, the door 
has opened as by a key. 

Cock — Lead on. Do you see him sleepless and 
making up his accounts? 

Mikylus — I see him, by Jupiter, in front of a 
faint and thirsty wick. He is sallow, too, I don’t 
know why, Cock, and he has altogether wasted 


THE COCK. 


1I 9 

away into a skeleton, evidently through his anxiety. 
For he was not reported to be sick in any other 
way. 

Cock — Listen to what he is saying. You will 
know then why he is in this condition. 

Simon — Those seventy talents are well hid under 
the bed and no one at all saw them; but Sosylus, 
the groom, I think, saw me hiding the sixteen under 
the manger. His business is altogether about the 
stable and he is not very careful in other mat- 
ters nor very fond of labor. It is likely that much 
more than this has been plundered from me, else 
how was it reported yesterday that Tibius bought 
such a great quantity of smoked fish or an ear ring for 
his wife for five whole drachmae? These fellows are 
wasting my money, miserable man that I am! Not 
even are my beakers, so many as they are, laid 
away in safety. At least, I am afraid that some 
one may break through the wall and carry them off. 
Many are envious of me and plot against me, espe- 
cially my neighbor, Mikylus. 

Mikylus — Yes, by Jupiter, I resemble you and I 
am going off with the cups under my arm. 

Cock — Keep still, Mikylus, lest he catch us in 
the very act of being present. 

Simon — It is best then, to keep awake myself and 
watch everything carefully. I’ll get up and go 
around over the house. Who’s there? I see you, 
burglar. No it isn’t, by Jupiter, since you happen 
to be a pillar. All’s well. I’ll dig up my gold and 
count it again for fear some escaped me lately. 
There! Somebody made a noise again, plainly 
against me. I am besieged and plotted against by 


120 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


all men. Where is my little sword? If I catch 
anybody — let’s bury the gold again. 

Cock — Such, you see, is Simon’s life. Let’s go 
to some other person’s house, while a little of the 
night is still left. 

Mikylus — O wretched man, what a life he lives! 
May it happen to our enemies thus to have riches! 
Anyhow, I want to box him on the ears before I go 
away. 

Stmon — Who’s that hit me? I, wretched man, 
am robbed. 

Mikylus — Wail on, lose sleep and become in 
color like the gold to which you cling. Let’s go to 
the house of Gniphon, the usurer, if you please. He, 
too, lives not far from here. This door also has 
opened for us. 

Cock — Do you see him also lying awake through 
care, counting the interest on his fingers and already 
a mere skeleton? He must leave all this after a lit- 
tle and become a cockroach or a gnat. See how he, 
too, is all withered away by his calculations. Let’s 
go to some one else. 

Cock — To Eukrafbs, if you please. Why, just 
see, this door, too, has opened. So let’s go in. 

Mikylus — All this was mine a little while ago. 

Cock — What ! Are you still dreaming of that 
wealth? Do you see Eukrates, himself an old man, 
subject to this household servant? 

Mikylus — I see, forsooth, lechery and lust and 
licentiousness not at all human. His wife, too, is 
corrupted by the cook. 

Cock — What, now, would you want to inherit 


THE COCK. 


1 2 1 


these things, too, Mikylus, and have all the prop- 
erty of Eukrates? 

Mikylus — By no means, Cock. May I perish 
of hunger first. Farewell, gold and suppers ! Let 
two obols be my wealth rather than be plundered 
by the servants. 

Cock — Well, now, since it is already day in the 
east, let us go home. The rest you shall see at an- 
other time, Mikylus. 




IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE 
CLOUDS. 

CHARACTERS : 


MENIPPUS, A FRIEND, 


M ENIPPUS (to himself) — Well, then, it was 
three thousand furlongs from the earth up 
to the moon, our first stopping-place. From there 
to the sun was about five hundred leagues. The dis- 
tance from the sun to heaven itself and to the citadel 
of Jupiter would bean upward journey of about one 
day for a well-plumed eagle. 

Friend — In the name of the Graces, Menippus, 
why are you talking astronomy and playing the 
surveyor in that way to yourself? For a long time 
I have been following and listening to you talking 
mysteriously about suns and moons, and besides, 
about these common matters, days’ journeys and 
leagues. 

Menippus — Don’t be surprised, Friend, if I seem 
to you to be talking about lofty and airy subjects. 
I am recounting to myself, you see, the chief points 
of my late journey away from home. 

Friend — Did you then, my good sir, determine 
your road by the stars, as the Phoenicians do? 

Menippus — Not at all, but I made my journey 
among the stars themselves. 

Friend — O Herakles, that is a pretty long sort 
of a dream you are telling me, if you, without 
knowing it, slept away whole leagues. 

Menippus — Why, my dear sir, do you think I 
am talking of a dream, I who have just come from 
Jupiter ? 


( I2 5) 


126 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


Friend — What is that you said? Has our Me* 
nippus fallen down from the skies? 

Menippus — Yes, indeed, I have come to-day 
from that very Jupiter himself, having heard and 
seen wonders. If you do not believe it, I rejoice in 
this, that I have good luck beyond belief. 

Friend — How could I, my divine and Olympian 
Menippus, child of the earth that I am, how could 
I fail to believe a man from above the clouds, and, 
to speak like Homer, one of heaven’s beings? But 
tell me this, if you please, in what way were you 
carried up, and how did you provide yourself with 
a ladder long enough? In countenance you do not 
resemble that well-known Phrygian* to such an ex- 
tent that we can conjecture that you, too, have been 
snatched up, somehow or other, by an eagle, to be- 
come the cup-bearer of the gods. 

Menippus — You have long been an open scoffer, 
and it is no wonder if to you the strangeness of my 
story resembles a myth. I had no need in my up- 
ward journey either of a ladder or of becoming the 
favorite of an eagle. I had wings of my own. 

Friend — This you are now telling is even be- 
yond Daedalus himself, if in addition to the rest, 
you, unknown to us, become, instead of a man, a sort 
of a hawk or jackdaw. 

Menippus — You are right, my friend, aud your 
guess was not far from the mark. For I myself 
made use of that device of Daedalus. 

Friend — Were you not afraid then, boldest of 
men, that you, too, falling into the sea somewhere, 

•Ganymede. 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. 127 

would cause it to be called“Menippian ” from your 
own name, just as Ikarus did? 

Menippus — Not at all. For Ikarus, inasmuch 
as his plumage was fitted on with wax, as soon as 
that melted in the presence of the sun, shed his 
feathers and naturally fell to the earth. But my 
quill feathers were not put on with wax. 

Friend — What is that you say? I don’t know 
how you are doing it, but gently you are leading me 
to believe your story. 

Menippus — It was about this way: Catching a 
full-grown eagle and a strong vulture besides, I cut 
off their wings, elbows and all — but, if you have 
time, I’ll tell you the whole scheme from the be- 
ginning. 

Friend — Do it by all means; for I am, you see, 
carried aloft by your words and already standing 
agape for the end of your story. Don’t, by the god 
of hospitality, don’t stand there and allow me to be 
hung up by the ears somewhere in the midst of your 
narrative. 

Menippus — Well, then, listen, for it is not polite, 
to say the least, to leave a friend standing agape, 
and, as you say, hungup by the ears. As soon as I 
found out by examining the affairs of life that human 
arrangements, I mean riches and powers and dy- 
nasties, were to be laughed at and were base and 
unstable, I despised them, and thinking that zeal 
in them was a hindrance to matters really worth 
attention, I tried to hold up my head and inspect the 
universe. In the first place this very concern which 
is called by wise men “ the world ” gave me no lit- 
tle perplexity. I was not able to find either how it 


128 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


came into existence, nor its creator, nor its begin- 
ning, nor the end of it. Afterwards, looking into 
the details of the matter, I was forced into still greater 
doubt. I saw the stars scattered by chance through 
the heavens, and I longed to know what in the 
world the sun itself really was. In particular, the 
moon appeared to me out of place, altogether strange; 
the variety of her forms, I thought, had an inexpli- 
cable cause. Not only that, but the piercing light- 
ning, the crashing thunder, the rain, the snow, the 
hail, which were poured down, these, too, were be- 
yond my conjecture and my ken. Since I was so 
disposed I thought it best to carefully learn about 
each of these from the philosophers. I thought 
they, of course, would be able to tell me the whole 
truth. So I picked out the best of them, as far as it 
was possible to judge by the sullenness of their 
countenance, the paleness of their complexion and 
the length of their beards. These men seemed to 
me, for example, to be pretty lofty speakers and 
skilled in heavenly matters. I put myself into their 
hands together with a large amount of money, pay- 
ing part of it on the spot and agreeing to pay the 
rest in the future on completion of the instruction. 
I demanded that I be taught meteorology and to 
learn thoroughly the arrangement of the universe. 
They were so far from helping me out of my former 
ignorance that they carried me with a rush into 
even greater perplexity, drenching me every day 
with certain first principles, conclusions, atoms, 
empty spaces, materials, ideas and the like. What 
seemed to me, at least, the most difficult of all was 
that, though not one of them said what was 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I29 

consistent with the other one, but what was alto- 
gether opposite and contradictory, nevertheless 
they demanded that I should obey them and each 
one tried to bring me to his own view. 

Friend — That is a strange story you are telling, 
that the men who were wise were at variance with 
each other concerning these arguments and that 
they did not have the same thoughts on the same 
subjects. 

Menippus— Further, my friend, you will laugh 
when you hear of their quackery and the marvelous 
in their lessons. They were men who walked upon 
the earth and were in no respect superior to us who 
walked upon the earth. They had no keener vision 
than their neighbors. Some were short-sighted by 
reason of old age and laziness. Nevertheless, they 
said they saw the limits of the heaven, that they 
measured around the sun and set foot upon the 
places beyond the moon, and, just as if they had 
fallen from the stars, they dilated upon their size and 
form. Often, too, if opportunity afforded, though 
they did not accurately know how many furlongs it 
was from Megara to Athens, they had the boldness 
to talk about how many cubits it was between the 
moon and the sun. They measured, too, the height 
of the air, the depth of the sea and the circumfer- 
ence of the earth. *Besides that, by drawing circles- 
and making triangles upon squares and strange 
spheres, they, forsooth, bound the heavens them- 

* Lucian uses the present tense here to show that the philoso- 
phers still have various views, as they did before Menippus’ trip 
to Heaven. The translator has thought it best to retain the pres- 
ent at the risk of a seeming confusion of tenses. 

9 


I3O SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

selves. Then this, too, is a senseless and alto- 
gether stupid thing of theirs, the fact that in talking 
of matters so obscure they set forth no view as a 
conjecture, but they strain themselves beyond limit 
and do not allow others to outreach them, all 
swearing that the sun is a ball of fire and that the 
moon is inhabited, that the stars drink up water, the 
sun, as it were by a rope, drawing up moisture from 
the sea and distributing drink to all of them equally 
and in order. It is easy to learn how great the con- 
tradiction is in their teaching. Observe now, by 
Jupiter, whether their dogmas are related or whether 
they are not altogether at variance. In the first 
place, their opinions about the Kosmos differ. To 
some of them it seems to be unborn and indestructi- 
ble. Others, however, have the audacity to speak of 
the fashion of it and the manner of its preparation. 
These I especially wonder at, as they set up some 
god as the artificer of the universe, not adding, how- 
ever, either whence he came or where he stood and 
framed all things. And yet it is impossible before 
the creation of the universe to conceive of time and 
space. 

Friend — Menippus, you are speaking of bold and 
wonder-working men. 

Menippus — What would you say, my good sir, 
if you should hear about the ideas and incorporeal 
things they talk of or their words on limitation 
and non-limitation? Why, this contest is again 
fresh among them. Some make a limit to the world, 
while others suppose it unlimited. Nay, they have 
declared that the worlds were very numerous, and 
condemned those persons who talked of one only. 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I3I 

A certain other one, not a man of peace, held that 
strife was the father of the universe. 

What is to be said now about the gods? In the es- 
timation of some, God was a certain number, while 
others swore by dogs and geese and palm trees. 
Some of them dispensed with all the other gods and 
assigned the government of the universe to one alone. 
The consquence was that I was slightly confused 
when I heard of such a perplexity of gods. Other 
philosophers again, being more lavish, declared that 
gods were numerous and making distinctions they 
called some special one the first god, while they 
attributed to others the second and third place in 
the divine order. In addition, some thought the 
godhead was incorporeal and without form, but 
others conceived of him as having a body. Then to 
all of them the gods did not seem to have a fore- 
knowledge of our affairs, but there were some who 
relieved them of all care, just as we are accustomed 
to relieve persons beyond their prime of public du- 
ties. They gave them no characteristics except that 
they introduced them as resembling the retinue in 
the comedies. Some, going beyond all this, believed 
there were no gods at all but left the Kosmos to be 
carried on without a ruler and without a guide. 
When, now, I heard all this I did not dare to dis- 
believe the high thundering and finely bearded men. 
Still I was not able to turn to any point in their 
teachings and find a place undisputed and in no re- 
spect overturned by another. So I had that well- 
known Homeric experience, for often I was in the 
act of believing some one of them 


'—but another spirit checked me. 


1 3 2 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


In confusion over these difficulties I gave up all idea 
of ever hearing on earth any truth about them. I 
thought, however, there would be one escape from 
the whole difficulty, if I, in person, could get wings 
somehow or other and go up to heaven. For the most 
part my desire furnished me hope of this and second- 
ly the story-teller ^Esop gave me encouragement by 
showing that heaven was accessible to eagles and 
beetles, sometimes even to camels. There was no de- 
vice by which it seemed possible for me ever to grow 
wings. If I could clothe myself with the wings of 
a vulture or an eagle — for these alone would be 
sufficient for the size of a human body — I might 
succeed in the attempt. I caught the birds and 
cut off the right wing of the eagle but the left 
wing of the vulture. Then, fitting them on well 
and fastening them to the shoulders with strong 
straps, and at the tips of the wing feathers pre- 
paring some handles for my hands, I practiced 
myself at first by leaping up and using my hands 
as in rowing, and, like geese, raising my wings and 
flying just on the surface of the ground, skimming 
along on tiptoe at the same time that I used my 
wings. When the affair was under my control I 
made a bolder attempt. Going upon the Akropolis 
I hurled myself down from the summit headlong 
into the very theater itself. When I alighted with- 
out any danger my thoughts were high and mete- 
oric. Going aloft I flew from Parnes or Hymettus 
to Geranea; then from there up to the citadel of 
Korinth ; then over Pholoe and Erymanthus to 
Mount Taygetus. 

Now that the daring art had been well practiced 
and as I had become expert in high flying, I no longer 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I33 

had the thoughts of mere nestlings but I went upon 
Mount Olympus and provisioning myself as* lightly 
as possible for the future I stretched my wings 
straight for heaven. At first I became dizzy from 
the great height, but afterward I bore even this 
easily. When I reached the moon itself, withdraw- 
ing far from the clouds, I perceived that I was tired, 
especially in the left wing — the vulture’s. I ap- 
proached the moon, sat down upon it and took a 
good rest, looking at the earth from on high and, 
as Jupiter did in Homer, gazed now at the coun- 
try of the horse - breeding Thracians, now at the 
Mysians, and after a while, if I felt like it, at 
Greece, Persia and India. By all these I was filled 
with various degrees of pleasure. 

Friend — Tell us of this, too, Menippus, in order 
that we may not in a single respect be left in igno- 
rance of your trip, but if anything, even as a side 
issue of your journey, has been found out by you, let 
us know this, too. I expect to hear not a little about 
the form of the earth and about all there is on it, 
which things were plain to you looking at them 
from above. 

Menippus — You are right, my friend. So, as far 
as you can, come up in thought to the moon, join 
me in my trip, and look at the entire arrangement 
of matters on the earth. In the first place, imagine 
that you see the earth as a pretty small affair, much 
smaller than the moon, I mean, so that I bending 
down quickly was in doubt a long time where the 
great lofty mountains and the mighty ocean were. If 
I had not seen the Colossus of Rhodes and the light- 
house on the island of Pharos, be assured the earth 
would have escaped my attention altogether. But 


134 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


now since these were high and prominent and since 
the ocean was gently gleaming in the sun, they in- 
dicated to me that what I saw was the earth. When 
I had once fixed my gaze on it firmly, the whole 
life of mankind was at once plain to me, not merely 
by nations and cities, but the very men themselves 
who were sailing, those who were waging war, 
those who were cultivating fields, those who had 
suits at law, the little women, the wild beasts and, 
in short, everything which the life-giving earth 
nourishes. 

Friend — What you say is altogether incredible 
and contradictory. You, Menippus, who just now 
were looking for the earth, contracted into a nar- 
row space by the intervening distance ; you who, if 
the Colossus had not indicated it to you, would 
probably have thought you saw something else, 
how do you now suddenly become, as it were, a 
sort of Lynkus and discern everything on the earth 
— men, beasts, the nests of the mosquitoes, almost? 

Menippus — You did well to remind me of it. 
For what I should certainly have told, this, in some 
way, I have passed by. When I had seen and recog- 
nized the earth itself, but was not able to discern 
the rest by reason of the height, inasmuch as my 
sight no longer reached so far, the matter troubled 
me very much and gave me no little perplexity. 
When I was downcast and almost dissolved in tears, 
there stood behind me the philosopher Empedokles, 
a veritable blacksmith in appearance, covered with 
ashes and well roasted. When I saw him — it must 
be told — I was somewhat confused. I imagined I 


IRAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I35 

saw some god of the moon. He, however, said: 
“Be of good cheer, Menippus, 

‘Nor I, alas ! descendant of the sky.’ 

I am Empedokles, the well-known physicist. When 
I threw myself headlong into the crater, the smoke, 
snatching me away from Mount ./Etna, brought 
me up here, and now I live in the moon, walking 
in the air for the most part and eating dew. I have 
come, therefore, to release you from your present 
trouble, for the fact that you don’t clearly see what 
is on the earth distresses and pains you, I think.” 
“ Y ou’ve done well,” said I, “ my dear Empedokles, 
and as soon as I fly down again to Greece I’ll re- 
member to make a libation in your honor over the 
chimney, and at the new moon I’ll keep in mind to 
gape three times at it and worship thee.” “ By 
Endymion,” said he, “ I haven’t come for the sake 
of reward, but I have been pained somewhat in soul 
to see you distressed. Do you know what you must 
do to become sharp-sighted?” “No, I don’t,” said I, 
“unless you somehow take the mist away from my 
eyes. At present I seem to be very much blear- 
eyed.” “ I’m sure you will not need me for that,” 
said he, “ for you yourself came from the earth with 
your sharp sight. What is this, then?” “Why, I 
don’t know,” said I. “Don’t you know,” he replied, 
“that you are wearing the right wing of an eagle?” 
“Of course I do,” said I. “What connection is there 
between a wing and an eye?” “This,” said he; 
“ that an eagle, of all living things, has by far the 
sharpest sight, so that he alone looks into the face 
of the sun. The eagle is the real king of birds, if 


136 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


he can look at the rays of the sun without blinking.’’ 
“ That’s what they say,” said I, “ and I now repent 
because in coming up here I didn’t take out my own 
eyes and put in the eyes of an eagle. As it is, I have 
come half prepared and am not at all royally equipped, 
but look like those bastard and disowned eaglets.” 
“And yet it is in your power,” he said, “ at once to 
have the one eye like a royal eagle. If you will 
stand up a little, hold fast the vulture’s wing and 
flap with the other only, you will, in accordance 
with the law of the wing, become sharp-sighted in 
the right eye ; for, beyond question, the left eye 
must be short-sighted, as it belongs to the inferior 
part.” “ It will be sufficient,” said I, “ if even the 
right eye alone can see as an eagle’s. It would be 
nothing less than carpenters do, since I’m sure I 
have often seen them making their timbers straight 
to the line better with one of their eyes.” 

At the same time that I said this, I did what Em- 
pedokles ordered. He, slowly vanishing, was by de- 
grees dissolved in smoke. As soon as I had flapped 
my wings, forthwith a great light shone around me, 
and what had heretofore escaped my notice became 
plain. Bending down toward the earth I distinctly 
saw cities, men, current transactions, and not only 
the things in the open air, but what men were doing 
at home, thinking they were unseen. I saw Ptol- 
emy marrying his own sister, the son of Lysima- 
chus plotting against Lysimachus, the son of Seleu- 
kus, Antiochus, conniving secretly with his step- 
mother Stratonike. I saw the Thessalian Alexan- 
der destroyed by his wife, and Antigonus corrupt- 
ing the wife of his son, and the son of Attalus pour- 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I37 

ing poison in the wine for Attalus. On the other 
hand I saw Arsakes murdering his wife, and the 
eunuch Arbalces drawing his sword against Ar- 
sakes. Spatinus, too, the Mede, with his forehead 
crushed by a golden goblet, was being drawn by 
the foot out of the banquet by his guards. Things 
like these I could see taking place in the royal pal- 
aces of Libya and Scythia and Thrace — people in 
licentiousness, murderers, schemers, plunderers, 
false swearers, cowards, people betrayed by their 
most'intimate associates. The affairs of rulers fur- 
nished me such pastime, but the common people 
were much more laughable, for I saw them, too. 
For instance, Hermodorus the Epicurean taking a 
false oath for one thousand drachmas; Agathokles 
the Stoic disputing at law with his pupil about the 
pay ; Kleinias the orator stealing a cup from the 
temple of Asklepius, and Herophilus the cynic 
passing the night in a brothel. Why should I men- 
tion the others — the burglars, the bribe-takers, the 
usurers, the deceivers? In short, the spectacle was 
rather changeful and diversified. 

Friend — It was good to tell that, Menippus; it 
has furnished you, no doubt, extraordinary delight. 

Menippus — It is impossible to tell everything in 
detail, my friend, since even to look at them was 
laborious. However, the chief affairs appeared to 
be such as Homer describes those on the shield of 
Achilles. Here were banquets and marriage feasts, 
there were courts of justice and popular assemblies; 
on this side some one was sacrificing, while in the 
neighboring house another was weeping. Whenever 
I would look away into the land of the Getse I could 


/ 


138 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

see them fighting; whenever I would change over 
to the Scythians I could see them wandering from 
place to place in wagons. Inclining my eye a little 
the other way I saw the Egyptians tilling the soil; 
the Phoenician was engaged in commerce, the 
Cilician was acting as a pirate, the Spartan was un- 
dergoing a flogging and the Athenian was having a 
suit in court. All these things going on at the 
same time, you can readily conceive what a medley 
this appeared to be. It would be just as if one 
should arrange many choral singers, nay, many 
choruses, and then order each one of the singers to 
pay no attention to harmony but to sing his own 
melody. Each one now, being ambitious and carry- 
ing his own song to the end, and being eager to 
excel his neighbor in magnificence of voice, can you 
conceive, by Jupiter, what sort of an ode it would be? 

Friend — It would be altogether ridiculous and 
confused, Menippus. 

Menippus — My friend, the choral singers on the 
earth are all of this character and the life of men 
is composed of such discord. Not only are their 
voices inharmonious, but their positions are varying; 
their movements are contradictory and their 
thoughts do not accord. The result is that the 
chorus leader drives each one of them from the 
stage, saying he has no further need of them. Then 
they all alike are at once silent and no longer sing 
out of tune a mixed and confused ode. But on such 
a varied and diversified stage all that was going on 
was, of course, laughable. Especially did it occur 
to me to laugh at the men who were quarreling 
about the boundaries of their land and at those who 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I39 

were proud because they cultivated the Sikyonian 
plain or owned that part of Marathon around CEnoe 
or held possession of a thousand acres at Acharnae. 
Of the whole of Greece, as it then appeared to me 
from above, being about the size of four fingers, I 
think, Attica was in proportion a mere speck. So 
that I wondered on what condition it was left to 
these rich men to be proud. The one of them who 
had the most land seemed to me to be tilling an 
atom of the Epicureans. Taking a look into Pelo- 
ponnesus and there seeing the Kynurian land, I 
was reminded about how small a territory, in no 
way wider than an Egyptian lentil, so many of the 
Argives and Spartans fell in one day. Further, if 
I saw any one proud on account of his gold, be- 
cause he had eight finger rings and four goblets, I 
would have an especially good laugh at him. Why, 
the whole range of Pangaeum, mines and all, was 
about the size of a grain of millet. 

Friend — O happy Menippus, what a strange 
spectacle you had! How great did the cities and 
men themselves, by Jupiter, appear to be from above? 

Menippus — I am sure you have often seen an 
assembly of ants, some packed in, some coming out 
and others returning again into their city. One of 
them is carrying out refuse, another has snatched 
from somewhere the husk of a bean or half of a 
grain of wheat and is running with it. It is likely 
that among them, in proportion to the life of ants, 
there are builders, demagogues, presiding officers, 
artists and philosophers. The cities, men and all, 
are very much like the ant hills. If the compari- 
son, making men like the commonwealth of ants, 


140 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


seems mean to you, consider the ancient stories of 
the Thessalians. You will find that the Myrmidons, 
the most warlike of tribes, became men from ants. 
When, then, everything had been thoroughly looked 
at and I had had a good laugh at it all, shaking my- 
self, I flew up 

“ To join th’ Immortals in th’ abode of Jove.” 

I had not gone a furlong when Selene (moon), in 
a woman’s voice, said, “ Menippus, good luck to you; 
do a service for me with Jupiter.” “ Speak it,” said 
I. “ It is no trouble unless it is necessary to carry 
something.” “ Take a message, not a difficult one, 
and a request from me to Jupiter,” she said. “ I am 
tired, Menippus, of hearing unkind remarks from the 
philosophers who have nothing else to do but to 
meddle in my affairs, inquiring who I am, how great 
I am and from what cause I become half-moon and 
gibbous. Some say that I am inhabited, others that 
I hang over the sea like a mirror, while others attrib- 
ute to me whatever thought each one of them has. 
Finally, even my very light they claim is stolen and 
illegitimate, coming to me from the sun above. They 
do not stop in their desires to embroil and embitter 
me against the sun, who is my brother. What they 
said about the sun himself, that he was a stone and a 
glowing mass of fire, was not sufficient for them. 
And yet how many disgraceful and despicable things 
do I know they are doing by night, they, who by day 
are austere and dignified in looks, solemn in dress 
and looked up to by the common people? Though 
I see all this I keep still. I do not consider it 
proper to uncover and bring to light those nightly 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I4I 

pastimes and the life of each one behind the scenes, 
but if I see anyone of them engaged in licentious- 
ness or stealing or daring to do any other more se- 
cret thing, immediately I draw a cloud over it and 
conceal it in order not to show to the people old 
men acting in a way unbecoming their long beards 
and their virtue. They, however, do not relax their 
dividing me asunder in their discussions and in in- 
sulting me in every manner. So, by the Goddess 
of Night, I often planned to change my abode as 
far away as possible that I might escape their 
meddlesome tongues. Remember, then, to report 
this to Jupiter and to add that it is not possible for 
me to remain in my place unless he will destroy 
those physicists, close the mouths of the logicians, 
undermine the Stoa,* burn down the Academy and 
put a stop to the hours of leisure spent in the pub- 
lic walks. Then I could lead a life of peace with- 
out being measured every day by them.” “ This 
shall be done,” said I, and at the same time I stretch- 
ed my way up hill toward heaven, where 

" No tracks of beasts, or signs of men, we found." 

After a little even the moon seemed small and I soon 
lost sight of the earth. Taking the sun on the right 
and flying through the stars, on the third day I ap- 
proached heaven. At first it occurred to me to go 
in at once, just as I was; for I thought I would es- 
cape notice inasmuch as I was an eagle in part, at 
least, and I knew that the eagle was familiar to Ju- 
piter from olden times. Afterward, however, I con- 

*The portico in Athens where the philosophers taught. 


142 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


sidered that they would very quickly take me in the 
very act of being clothed with one wing of a vulture. 
Deciding it was best, therefore, not to run any risk, 
I went to the door and knocked. Hermes answered, 
and learning my name, went away hurriedly to tell 
Jupiter. After a little I was invited in, very much 
afraid and in a tremor. I found all the gods seated 
together, not without some agitation themselves, 
for the strangeness of my visit disturbed them some- 
what and they expected that in a short time all men 
would come there winged after the same fashion. 
Jupiter looked at me in a fearfully sharp and titanic 
way and said: “Who of men art thou? Where is 
thy city and thy parents?” When I heard this I 
almost swooned away from fear, but nevertheless 
stood there mute and thunderstruck by the loudness 
of his voice. In a moment I recovered and told 
him everything plainly from the very start; how I 
longed to learn what was on high; how I went to 
the philosophers; how I heard them contradict- 
ing one another; how I grew weary of being dis- 
tracted by their arguments; then, in order, about 
my plan, my wings and everything else until I had 
reached the heavens. On top of all this I added what 
had been sent by the moon. Jupiter smiled, relaxed 
his brows a little and said: “ What could you say 
about Otus and Ephialtes* since even Menippus 
dared to come up into heaven? To-day we invite 
you to our banquet, but to-morrow,” said he, “ we 
shall transact the business for which you came and 
send you away.” At the same time he arose and 

* The two sons of Neptune who grew three cubits a year. 


IK A ROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I43 

walked to the most suitable spot in heaven for hear- 
ing; for it was the hour fixed for prayers. Mean- 
while he came forward and questioned me about 
matters on the earth. First he asked how much 
wheat cost in Greece, and if the winter a year ago 
was severe on us, and if the vegetables needed more 
rain. In the second place he inquired whether any 
descendant of Phidias was still living, and from 
what cause the Athenians had neglected the Diasfa 
for so many years, and whether they intended to 
complete the Olympian temple for him; whether, 
also, the plunderers of his temple in Dodona had 
been apprehended. When I had answered these 
questions he said: “Tell me, Menippus, what opin- 
ion do men have about me?” “ What opinion, mas- 
ter,” said I, “other than the most pious, namely, that 
you are king of all the gods?” “You are joking,” 
said he, “ I am well aware of their fondness for what 
is new even if you don’t tell me. There was a time 
once when I seemed to be priest and physician, in a 
word, everything to them. 

“ ‘And all the streets were full of Jupiter 
And the market places of men.’ 

Then, Dodona and Pisa were brilliant cities and of 
great renown in all the world, and it was not possi- 
ble for me to look up by reason of the smoke of the 
sacrifices. Since then Apollo has established his 
oracle at Dephi, Asklepius his temple of healing 
in Pergamus; the temple of Bendis has been located 
in Thrace ; one of Anubis in Egypt, and one of 
Artemis in Ephesus. To these all men flock, cele- 
brating national festivals and bringing hectcaombs 


144 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

to the altars, while they think they have honored 
me sufficiently as one who has grown old, if they 
sacrifice at Olympia every four years. As a result 
you may see my altars colder than the laws of 
Plato or the syllogisms of Chrysippus.”* 

While going over some such matter we came to 
the place where he had to sit down and listen to the 
prayers. There were windows in regular order, simi- 
lar to the mouths of wells, with cups, and by each one 
was placed a golden throne. Seating himself at the 
first one, Jupiter took the cup and submitted himself 
to those who were praying. People offered all sorts 
of prayers from all over the earth. I, too, stooped 
down with him and listened at the same time to 
their prayers. They were about on this fashion: 
“ O Jupiter, may it happen to me to be king.” 
“ O Jupiter, let my onions and garlic grow.” “O ye 
gods, may my father die very soon.” Now and 
then one would say: “ Would that I might obtain 
a wife.” “Would that I might escape notice in 
plotting against my brother.” “ May it be my for- 
tune to win my suit at law, to gain the Olympian 
crown.” Of the sailors one prayed that the north 
wind might blow; another, the south wind. The 
tiller of the soil asked for rain; the clothes cleaner 
for the sun. Jupiter, listening and examining each 
prayer carefully, did not promise everything but 

“The Lord of Counsel heard. 

And half his pray’r he granted, half denied.” 

The just prayers he received through the opening 
and placed them down at his right. The unholy 


* An acute logician The third century B. C. 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I45 

ones, on the contrary, he sent away again unful- 
filled, blowing them away with his breath that they 
might not be anywhere near heaven. I observed 
that he was troubled, too, at one certain prayer- 
Two men offering prayers that were opposite and 
both promising equally great sacrifices, he was not 
able to determine which one of them he preferred to 
favor, so you see he suffered the well known feeling 
of the Academicians and was not able to declare his 
opinion, but, like Pyrrho,* held off and was in doubt. 

When he had paid sufficient attention to the pray- 
ers, he changed to the next seat and the second win- 
dow, stooped down and listened to the oaths and the 
swearers. After he was through with them and 
had destroyed the Epicurean Hermodorus, he took 
his position on the next seat to give heed to omens, 
oracles and prophecies. From there he went to the 
window for sacrifices, through which the smoke 
came up and reported to Jupiter the name of the 
sacrificer. He left these things now and gave or- 
ders to the winds and seasons as to their duties : 
“ Let it rain in Scythia to-day ; let the lightning 
fiash in Libya; let snow fall in Greece; blow, north 
wind, in Lydia; south wind, keep still; west wind, 
stir up waves in the Adriatic; let about one thou- 
sand bushels of hail be scattered over Cappadocia.” 
When everything had been arranged by him we 
went to the banquet, as it was time to dine. Hermes 
00k me and seated me near Pan, Korybas, Attis 
and Sabazius, strange and doubtful gods. Deme- 

* Who taught that a wise man must suspend judgment. 


10 


I46 SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 

ter furnished me bread, Dionysus, wine, Herakles, 
meat, Aphrodite, myrtle berries, and Poseidon, 
sprats. At the same time I took a taste of the am- 
brosia and nectar on the sly, for my good friend 
Ganymedes, in his kindness, whenever he saw Jupi- 
ter looking some other way, would pour me a cup or 
two of nectar in a hurry. The gods, as Homer some- 
where says, and I think rightly, as I have seen 
things there, neither eat food nor drink sparkling 
wine, but ambrosia is sweet to them and they get 
befuddled on nectar. They are especially delighted 
when they partake of the smoke from sacrifices, 
borne up to them, incense and all, and when they 
partake of the blood of sacrifices which the wor- 
shipers pour over the altars. At the banquet Apol- 
lo played the lyre, Silenus danced the cordax, and 
the muses arose and sang for us from the Theogony 
of Hesiod and the first ode of the hymns of Pindar. 
When there was a surfeit we rested, just as each 
one was, pretty well befuddled. 

“All night in sleep repos’d the other gods, 

And helmed warriors ; but the eyes of me 
Sweet slumber held not,” 

For I was thinking about many other things, but more 
especially these : Why in so long a time Apollo 
does not grow a beard; or how night comes about 
in heaven when the sun is always present and 
feasting with them? Afterwards I slept a little. 
Early in the morning Jupiter got up and gave or- 
ders to call an assembly. When all were present 
he began his speech : 

“This yesterday’s guest of ours has caused me 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I47 

to bring you together. Having long since wished 
to commune with you about the philosophers, and 
being especially brought to this by Selene and her 
complaints, I have decided not to protract this ex- 
amination any longer. There has lately appeared 
on the surface of life a clique of men who are idle, 
quarrelsome, vainglorious, sharp-tempered, full of in- 
solence, and, to use a Homeric phrase, ‘a useless bur- 
den of the earth.’ These men, dividing into systems 
and planning different labyrinths of arguments, have 
called themselves, some Stoics, some Academicians, 
some Epicureans, some Peripatetics and other names 
far more ridiculous than these. They put on the 
holy name of virtue as a mask ; they go around 
with elevated eyebrows and long beards, cover- 
ing abominable morals with a feigned exterior. 
They particularly resemble those tragic actors from 
whom, if you take away the masks and the gilded 
robes, you have left a ridiculous manikin who has 
been hired for the theatre at a price of seven 
drachmas. Being of such a character they despise 
all men, tell monstrous stories about the gods, 
bring easily deceived youths together and talk in a 
tragic way about the trite subject of virtue, teaching 
also the intricacies of argument. To their pupils 
they always praise patience and temperance. They 
treat riches and pleasure with contempt, but wdien 
alone how could anyone say to what extremes they 
go in eating, to what extent they indulge their pas- 
sions and how they lick the filth off the coins? The 
worst of all is that though they themselves accom- 


148 


SELECTIONS FROM LUCIAN. 


plish no public or private good, but are useless and 
superfluous, 

" ‘Of small account in council or in fight,’ 

yet they accuse others, and by marshaling bitter 
words and engaging in abusive practices they dis- 
honor and cast reproach on their neighbors. That 
one of them is thought to win the first prize who 
has the loudest voice, who is most audacious and 
who is boldest in his blasphemous utterances. It 
you should ask the one who strains himself thus, 
and bawls out in his accusation of others, ‘ What 
are you doing just now?’ or ‘What shall we say, 
by the gods, you are completing in life?’ he would 
say, should he wish to speak justly and truly: ‘It 
seems to me to be superfluous to be a sailor or to 
till the soil or to go on a military expedition or to 
be engaged in any art. I bawl out, I am squalid, I 
bathe in cold water, I go bare-footed in winter, and, 
like Momus*, I find fault with what is done by 
others. If any rich man has spent money for dain- 
ties, or has a female companion, I meddle in the 
matter and show indignation, but if any of my 
friends or companions lies sick needing aid and 
nursing I am ignorant of it.’ Such, ye gods, we 
know these creatures to be. Now, those who are 
called Epicureans are not only insolent but they as- 
sail us fiercely, claiming that the gods neither care 
for human affairs nor observe what is going on at 
all. Consequently it is time for you to deliberate, 
I think. If once these men be able to persuade 

♦According to Hesiod, the son of night and demon of complaint 
and mockery. 


IKAROMENIPPUS, OR, ABOVE THE CLOUDS. I49 

the world you will be immensely hungry. For 
who would sacrifice to you when he expects to get 
nothing? You all heard our guest yesterday telling 
what Selene charges. In these matters take the 
course that will be most helpful to men and safest 
for us.” 

When Jupiter had said this the assembly was 
thrown into confusion and they all cried out, “Hurl 
your thunderbolt upon them,” “Burn them up with 
a lightning flash,” “ Destroy them,” “ Throw them 
into the barathrum,* into Tartarus, as you did the 
giants.” Jupiter commanded silence again and 
then said: “It shall be as you wish; they shall 
be destroyed, logic and all, but for the present it 
is not right that any one be chastised; it is a 
holy time, these four months, and I have already 
proclaimed an armistice. Next year, however, 
when spring begins, the wicked men shall quickly 
perish by my terrible thunder bolt.” 

“ He said, and nodded with his shadowy brows.” 
“About Menippus,” said he, “ this is my view. He 
must be stripped of his wings in order that he may 
never come up here again, then carried down to the 
’ earth to-day by Hermes.” When he had said this 
he dismissed the assembly, but the Kyllenian Hermes 
took me by the right ear and put me down in a hurry 
yesterday evening in the Keramikus.f You have 
heard, my friend, all about heaven. Now I’ll go 
and tell the peripatetic philosopher in the Stoa the 
very same story. 

*A chasm near the Akropolis into which criminals were thrown. 

■fOne of the parts of Athens. 


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MtlUam lb. JEnollsb 


The Conquest of the Northwest 
1778=1783 p and Life of 
General Geo. Rogers Clark 


Hon. William H. English, whose name fif- 
teen years ago was on every tongue, and who 
stood with General Hancock as the standard- 
bearer of the Democracy, has become equally 
famous throughout the West and South dur- 
ing the last decade as an antiquarian and col- 
lector of Americana. 

After a quarter century of research, the dis- 
tinguished statesman now publishes a re- 
markable narrative of our contest with the 
British (1778-83), for the mastery and ulti- 
mate possession “ of the country northwest 
of the River Ohio.” His collection of his- 
torical material relating to this romantic con- 
quest is probably the largest extant. 

Embodied in the work is the only complete 
life of General George Rogers Clark. 

Sold by subscription. In two volumes, 
octavo, on fine paper, handsomely bound, 
with numerous illustrations; reproductions 
of rare portraits, paintings and ancient land- 
marks; fac-similes of historical documents, 
letters, maps, etc. Price for the set, $6.00 net, 
delivered to any address, express prepaid by us. 

THE BOWEN- MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


TIbe morfis of 
James UUlbttcomb IRileg 

Armazindy 


Contains some of Mr. Riley’s latest and best 
dialect and serious work, including “Arma- 
zindy” and the famous Poe Poem. T2mo. 
cloth, uniform with his other books, $1.25; 
half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 


“Mr. Riley’s new book of poems, “Arma- 
zindy,” includes verses in dialect and verses 
in straight English, verses to touch the heart 
and verses to tickle the ribs, verses of homely 
sentiment, and nonsense verses which are 
truly reckless and altogether delightful. ‘Ar- 
mazindy’ is a characteristic poem in the 
Hoosier dialect, and there are some seventy 
other poems, and one prose sketch written 
after the style of Dickens .” — Current His- 
tory. 

James Whitcomb Riley’s simple verse has 
won a lasting place in the hearts of old and 
young, and the reasons for this are plain. He 
has a quick and fine appreciation of the beau- 
ties of what might seem to some only the 
commonplace and humdrum side of nature, 
and he opens our eyes to see the poetry in the 
very things that have seemed to us the dullest 
of prose . — Public Opinion , Washington , D. C. 


THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


XEbe XKHorfcs ot 
James Whitcomb iRileg 


Green Fields and Running Brooks 

One hundred and two poems and sonnets, 
dialect, humorous and serious. i2mo. cloth, 
$1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 


Green Fields and Running Brooks 
is the latest volume of James Whitcomb 
Riley’s poems we receive from the Bowen - 
Merrill Companj r , of Indianapolis. It is an 
enticing title, and its promise and allurement 
is well fulfilled in its pages. Mr. Riley is a 
singer by nature, and of nature human and 
extrahuman, and he has given no truer and 
sweeter songs to us than are in this book. — 
Republican, Springfield. 

Under the pretty title, Green Fields and 
Running Brooks — a phrase which almost 
insists on continuing itself into “ Sermons 
in Stones” — the most recent productions of 
James Whitcomb Riley come to us, and prove 
the Hoosier bard to be very prolific, as welJ 
as a very sweet singer .- — Christian Union , 
New Torh . 


THE BOW EH- MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


TEbc TOorfes of 
James Mbttcomb lRUe$ 


Rhymes of Childhood 

One hundred and two dialect and serious 
poems. Not for children only, but of child- 
hood days, with frontispiece. i2mo. cloth, 
$1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 


James Whitcomb Riley’s Rhymes of 
Childhood would be pronounced as ad- 
dressed to grown people, rather than to chil- 
dren of the age and experience of those whose 
thoughts and feelings figure in these pages. 
It is a delightful book from cover to cover, 
and displays a rare insight into the habits of 
mind of the child. The dialect, too, is true to 
nature, and seldom, if ever, overdrawn. — 
Overland Monthly. 

It is impossible not to give a hearty wel- 
come to this bundle of rhyme, with its tender 
human love and its irresistible humor. Mr. 
Riley, at his best and in his narrow but at- 
tractive field, is inimitable. No poet since 
Burns has sung so close to the ear of the com- 
mon people of the country. His “ Hoosier” 
lyrics and his Rhymes of Childhood come 
very near to the line of perfection . — New 
Tork Independent. 


THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


Zbc Morfes ot 
James Whitcomb IRiles 

Pipes o’ Pan 


Five sketches and fifty poems. The sketches 
are separated by four books of twelve poems 
each, with frontispiece. i2mo. cloth, $1.25; 
half calf, $2.50; full morocco, $5.00. 


His work in prose is really exquisite, though 
comparatively few are acquainted with it. 
Here is the conclusion of one of his tales, 
published in the “ Pipes o’ Pan at Zekes- 
bury.” It is as simply natural as fact, as 
delicate as truth. It is at once so probable 
and so artistic that no one would venture to 
guess whether the writer created the incident 
or whether the incident created the tale. 
Here it is: 

“Well, Annie had just stooped to lift up 
one o’ the little girls when the feller turned, 
and the’r eyes met. ‘Annie, my wife!’ he 
says: and Annie, she kind o’ gave a little yelp 
like, and come a flutterin’ down in his arms, 
and the jug of worter rolled clean acrost the 
road, and turned a somerset and knocked the 
cob out of its mouth, and jist laid back and 
hollered ‘good-good-good-good-good!’ like ef 
it knowed what was up, and was jist as glad 
and tickled as the rest of us .” — Omaha World- 
Herald. 

THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


Ube TKHorfts of 
James TOIlbttcomb iRileg 

Afterwhiles 


Sixty-two poems and sonnets, serious, 
pathetic, humorous and dialect, with frontis- 
piece. i2mo. cloth, $1.25; half calf, $2.50; 
full morocco, $5.00. 

It is easy, from his book of poems, After- 
whiles, to see how the work of Mr. James 
Whitcomb Riley has grown so widely popu- 
lar in the United States. Mostly his verse 
resembles Poe. But much more than that 
author he gives expression to the child-like 
simplicity which distinguishes Brother Jona- 
.jan among the nations in all matters of art. 
TV poems in dialect are more enjoyable than 
the others for their humor and character.-— 
The Scotsman , Edinburg \ 

Mr Riley has discovered the essential 
beauty of nature in the fields, and of pathos 
and sentiment in the heart of man, and has 
interpreted it with a hdelity and simplicity 
which will make his poetry live long after 
the elegant transcription from books and the 
inspirations from foreign life have faded away 
into the nothingness which is the doom ot all 
artificial and imitation . — Providence Jour 
nal . 


THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


Ebe Morks ot 
James TKRbitcomb iRUey 


Sketches in Pros e 

Originally published as “The Boss Girl 
and Other Stories.” Twelve graphic 
stories, each prefaced by a poem. i2mo. 
cloth, $1.25; half calf, $2.50; full morocco, 
$5.00. 


When Mr . Riley publishes a new book the 
people who read rejoice. This last volume of his 
is as refreshing as a May morning, and is full 
of charming pen pictures, dainty bits of land- 
scapes, and homelike turnings of white paths 
through green fields are suggested with an 
almost pathetic vividness. There are some 
more of his delightful child studies, the merit 
of which lies somewhat in the wonderful 
child dialect, but mainly in the accurate and 
true interpretation of child -character. The 
poet understands the child perfectly, and 
places himself before us with absolute justice 
and a splendid sympathy for his most child- 
ish whims. Mr. Riley has discovered child- 
lore, and he has shown the true child-lore, 
and made us see the relation between it and 
folk-lore . — Nassau Library Magazine, 


THE B O IV EN~ MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


Uhc TKHorfes of 
5ames TObitcomb IRUes? 


Neghborly Poems 

Thirty-six poems in Hoosier dialect, includ- 
ing “ The Old Swimmin’ Hole and ’ Leven 
More Poems, by Benjamin F. Johnson, of 
Boone,” with eight half-tone illustrations. 
i2mo. cloth, $1.25; half calf, $2.50; full mo- 
rocco, $5.00. 


Benjamin F. Johnson, of Boone — a “ rare 
Ben Johnson,” indeed — fathered these cute 
country whims, some of the best that the 
truest poet of to-day has given the world, in 
the quaint dressing of the Hoosier dialect. — 
Evening News, Buffalo. 

The poems included in this neat volume are 
idiomatic, droll and charming. They depict 
common things in an unusually natural way 
and touch many sympathetic chords. — The 
Treasury, New York. 

Mr. Riley, more than any other American 
poet who has essayed this style of poetic 
writing, has enriched this peculiar field with 
gems that will constitute a permanent part 
of our literature. — Omaha Bee. 


THE BOWEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY. 


iMcbarb Hd. Tlbompson 

Personal Recollections 


Washington to Lincoln 

Including the administrations of sixteen Presidents of 
the United States. 


Col. Richard W. Thompson has known 
personally every President of the United 
States but the first two, Washington and 
John Adams, and also many leaders of the 
American Revolution, among them being 
Lafayette. He knew Jefferson sixty-seven 
years ago, and was present at the inaugura- 
tion of Andrew Jackson. He was president 
of the famous Panama Commission, is the 
oldest living member of Congress but one, 
and during the administration of Hayes he 
entered the cabinet as Secretary of the Navy. 
At the close of this long and brilliant career, 
Col. Thompson has given to the world his 
own personal recollections of the Presidents, 
in which he does not refer to documents, but 
draws entirely upon the wonderful resources 
of his memory. It is remarkably full and 
accurate as to the origin and growth of po- 
litical parties. 

Bound in Buckram, gilt top, with numerous 
full page portraits in photogravure. Edition 
de Luxe , 2 vols., buckram, $6; half leather, 
$8; half calf, $9; full leather, $12. 

THE BOIVEN-MERRILL CO. 
INDIANAPOLIS AND 
KANSAS CITY . 







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